I want to be proud of myself and focus on what's next
But I keep coming back around to you,
Like I've stepped over an ice cream cone dropped on the ground
And I can't keep myself from glancing back to watch it melt.

Over time,
I will become more accustomed to my footsteps
Not being echoed by other mirrored sets
And watching my shadow grow long in the evening alone.

And yet I keep turning back
Because there is something fascinating about the slow death
Of what once brought smiles,
Being fed to the ants and the hot sun.

I'm moving on, even if I keep glancing back to you
Because I know I'm not coming back
And with every step I take, it hurts a little less
And I'm comforted in knowing you will soon be out of view.