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Teresa Garde May 2018
I promised myself I'd grieve over you
just once more.
I promised myself if I didn't check in on you every day,
if I didn't obsess over who you're sleeping with this week,
or who you are falling in love with this month-
If I didn't make a day of seeing if you're alright,
and if I didn't do it every day,
eventually,
I'd be free of you.

So I gave myself forty days.
Forty days to try to live without you tempting me to give in and call
or, at least, time to fool my eyes and pretend you were no longer on my mind.
I gave myself forty days to rip your letters apart and watch them burn.
Forty days to wonder why the flowers you gave me weren't blooming when all I gave them were tears.
Forty days to move out and away from you after you've moved in someplace else.

So I marked the calendar,
I counted down the days,
took a tally in the sand as it fell.
Forty days I went not checking in,
forty days I forced myself not to glance in your direction,
forty days I spent in a straight jacket I picked out myself.

I wish I knew if it did any good
because I'm on my third forty-day fast
and I'm still counting the seconds.
To think, to wish, and feel
Teresa Garde Oct 2017
a good day consists of the poems you let me write
behind your ear
down your neck
between your legs

a good year keeps the letters I tore apart
behind your back
down the hatch
between the lines

a good life makes the books hard to write
behind the scenes
down the aisle  
between the promises

A life without him
means one with you

a good idea may be one without you
but a life without you
is not a life at all
I'm too afraid to fall in love again
Teresa Garde Sep 2017
I am a ghost of myself
and you love every single piece of me
that used to exist

Maybe you stay
and you wait bedside
praying for me to wake up again

And maybe I stay
because you
are the only thing that makes me flinch anymore

I am a ghost of myself
and every morning I pray
that you leave my side

Because, I know, the piece that does exist
is not meant for you
To: My Gin

— The End —