I can’t unlearn your favourite
things or the way you look with
morning hair or how soft or hard
your lips can be. But we soured.
We ended. There were lovely
things that were distinctly us and
none of them disappeared but
the home those lovely things
lived in is burned to the ground.
The hard part is that love doesn’t
dissipate the moment relationships
end. I’m still learning how to think
of you without feeling the word
‘mine’. I’m still learning what
breakup means when it comes
to you and I.
Don’t tell me that you love me, because anyone can tell me that. Tell me that I make you tear up with anger and frustration, but at the end of the day you still want to lay down next to me, put your arms around me, and sleep.