a handful of texts
each wrapped with a ribbon that read
“you should see me”
lead up to this moment
it lead up to your fingertips
reaching into my soul,
your favourite song echoing
in my mind,
making tea
just the way you like it
(when you like it, it’s occasional),
traffic reminding me of
your face when a terrible driver angered you,
the tap of your fingers
against the steering wheel,
the calm of your voice
against my irrationality,
you
leaving,
waking up
to remember that you’re gone
all over again