My therapist told me that I needed a hobby,
so I started smoking cigarettes again
because you always kissed me just a few seconds longer
when I tasted like ash.

I begun telling tales
because the look on your face when you used to catch me in a lie
made my stomach ache with longing.

I started counting my steps.
because thinking of your eyes made it hard to focus on
where I've been.

I screamed at the trees to drown out you whispering in my head
and I forgot to wear shoes on purpose this time,
remembering when it was an accident and you laughed.

My therapist told me that I needed a hobby
to forget you.