I woke up next to a box of Peanut Butter Crunch, and I rolled over to check my phone for your name. You know I still haven’t taken off that stupid kissy face emoji from your contact info? Yeah, well I haven’t. Guess I’m still hoping that our last wasn’t actually the last.
The sun missed its cue this morning, and for a moment, I forgot about that sunrise we never got to watch. Damn.
I check my Instagram feed and pray you haven’t posted another photo of her. While I’m there, I read poems as profound and bloody as our split. Silently, I thank their authors for the distant and unknown understanding that floated between the broken.
Finally, I close my eyes and there you wait. Every detail stays and I’ve no trouble curling into the ghost of your touch.