Sometimes it’s easier sleeping
alone. Sleep finds me faster, because
my brain is quiet. Some nights,
your memories of her thicken the air
with every breath you exhale,
making it impossible for me to breathe.

     And I can’t blame you for that.
And I tell myself this over and over
and over and over again. But the static
of a voice that I have never heard
fills my head with the sweet nothings
that she whispered into your ear
long before my time.

     Perhaps letting go of people
is easier for me. All my life I’ve watched
the people I need walk away,
effortlessly. And I wanted to be like that, too.
And I am.

      But now I cannot let go of your
memories of her that choke me, and
the sound of her voice calling out your
name in the dead of the night, and I cannot
fathom the thought of her being with you
in the dreams playing in your head.

Sometimes it’s easier sleeping alone.