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.

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