I wonder if I’ll be a mom.
I wonder if I’d be a good one.
I wonder if that mole on my arm should be checked out.
I wonder what I’d look like with lip filler.
I wonder what my friends value about me the most.
I wonder if they all think I’m a good friend.
I wonder what it would take to just force everyone to switch to electric vehicles and if oil money is the only real thing that’s been stopping it.
I wonder what it feels like to bring someone home for Christmas I’m really excited about.
I wonder if I’ll ever have that feeling.

There were only ever two real ones for me.
The rest were just killing time.

Tonight I realized I was never a real for you.
I was just a filler and you were robbing me blind.

So even though you have broken my heart, yet again, I wanted to say, in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

There was nothing special about you,
But the way I loved you was.

The little cove on Sifnos we hiked to and swam for hours.
The back lot filled with pine trees we rode horses on as kids.
The field of blackberries we’d get splinters in picking enough for a homemade cake.
The nook of your arm, my head on your chest and your hand on my back, as we drift off for a Sunday afternoon nap.

I used to think the feeling of magic could only be found in another person.
The rush you get when two souls connect and the world spins slower and everything feels better.
But I’ve started feeling it lately without people.
I’ve started feeling it alone- looking at my life, my plans, my future, without the fantasy of a partner.
Maybe I just didn’t allow myself to see it before.
I had to always project it on someone else.
But it was always here.
Maybe it’s me.

Thinking about packing makes me realize how much I am going to miss this place.
It feels like a little death leaving what has been home for 5 months.
I’m aware this may be an end to us.
To the winter/spring romance that felt so easy.
To our friend group, the six of us, skiing all day and partying all night at Pete’s.
To the dinners we cooked in this tiny kitchen with two working burners.
To being the big spoon.
To showering together despite the **** water pressure.
To waking up with my head on your chest and feeling so at ease.
I don’t want it to end.
I hope it doesn’t.
But I also won’t try to force anything.
What we have is too good to end in strain.
If it has to end, I’d rather it end as it came.
Easy, out the front door with a smile on our faces as we laugh one last time at one of your dumb ******* jokes.