After you left, I'd always forget to buy milk when I ran out.
Now I just drink my coffee black.
I take showers instead of baths.
It's faster now.
I forget my keys too often.
I had to hide one under the front step.
The other day I was hit by the door of the subway.
It left me with a bruised hipbone.
This morning I jumped in a pile of clothes fresh from the drier.
It still wasn't as powerful as your warmth.
I didn't feel like cooking last night.
I ate a whole meal of celery.
I sleep with the fan on.
I wake up freezing every morning.
I've accepted that the street lights shine brighter than the stars.
It makes the sky seem even darker than it used to be.
I fall asleep in the middle of the bed,
But somehow always end up on the left side.
I keep forgetting to close the windows.
Now, it's always cold in my room.
******
song -- "Let It Go," The Neighbourhood
YOU ARE READING
My View from the Mount
PoetryA really close friend (she's the older sister I never had) once told me that I don't need to be established to consider myself a writer. So here I am. I'm a writer, but I'm not a professional. I'm just a girl with a pen who speaks through a notebook...
