I will get over you someday,
But not today.
Because the laundry room is blowing
the scent of your fabric softener in my nose.
I will forget about you soon,
But just not now.
Because the driveway still has your footprints
from when you stepped on the oil of our rusty car.
I will move on eventually,
Just not as quickly.
Because the cupboard still has your favorite cereals,
the one that I’ve grown to like.
And even if I sold each little scrap of memory I have of you,
shred every bit of evidence of the existence of us,
it will still take me many lifetimes to finally move on.