I will stop looking for you on the streets,
in the movies you liked,
in the songs that you loved,
in the books you used to read,
or in my heart.
I'll stop associating you with the moon,
with the sun,
with the stars,
or with the orange and pink skies of a humid midsummer night.
I'll stop finding you in places you've been,
in the crevice of hope and starvation,
in my dreams,
or inside the most beautiful things.
I'll stop searching for you,
in the mundane moments,
of melting iced coffees,
unturned pages,
and lines that rhyme.
I will...
maybe tomorrow.
I'll do it, for sure.
