I scrubbed my floors of your footprints.
I shredded the notes you left on my coffee table.
I smashed the bottles of wine you left in the kitchen.
I am sober from the intoxication of your kiss.
Never again will I be vulnerable to the way you whispered my name in the early hours of the morning.
That tingling sensation, where your icy fingertips brushed my shoulders, has dulled.
I miss the chill but Hell will suffice.