Live in Poems

117

And while love may be gone, knowledge is not erased, and I still know all your quirks and ticks.

It drives me insane, if you must know, that I know exactly what you will do today after work and what kind of food you abhore. That I can tell you what are your favorite sports teams and what three things you would bring to a deserted island.

I hate that I know what is the size of your pants, your preferred choice of underwear and the kind of shoes you always buy. I hate that I know what brand of peanut butter you prefer and just how afraid you are to fly. I hate that I know the exact expression of your face when you think someone is bullshitting you and how you hate to dance in public. I hate that I know all of the names of your Aunt Jane's kids and how old each one is.

I hate that I know everything that there is to know about you, but what I hate the most is knowing that what you love most and cherish, the most important thing to you, is no longer me but her.