i get that change is meant to hurt, to push
and pull at all of those bits that need it
i understand that i made the choices i had to,
that i'm strong, and that i live life for myself-
but the truth remains, none of this feels like love

i wake up cold and sweating, the echoes of you
bouncing around the room

sometimes i wish that folding was as easy as it seemed,
that we could climb back into my princess bed
and fight the chills with our body heat, that you
would wake me with kisses on my eyelids before
you caught the early bus to work, that you'd
hold my waist and dance barefoot with me as i
whispered old crooner songs to you in my kitchen

instead my backbone bends, but somehow the
weight of this loss doesn't break it

i know you go on living, but it's hard to define
what you're doing as life, i worry always that
the unknown number is someone calling to tell
that you've finally lost your physical self,
just as you lost your spirit so long ago

my strength isn't made for two, just me,
even though i lent it to you each and every
time your eyes became glued to the floor and
your body shook so much you lost your sense of self

i know now that i'm no jesus, that lover isn't
synonym for savior, that i did everything i could

there is no reassurance in reinvention, you see,
this time around i already know who i am,
the decision was long and labored, but came
about without question or hesitation

comfort doesn't come just because i could
see the fissure coming, instead the pain
is slow and deliberate, a dull ache in my bones