I think I understand hookups and one-night stands now.
The key to moving on is to replace until there's nothing to unravel upon.

I mean, It's fair.
I do it too.
Moment by moment,
conversation by conversation,  
I replace the replays,
and that is about as far as I'll go.
I can't bear the thought
of another touching me, like I'm not yours.

I got another ring today,
All big and loose.
Funny how I picked this one,
it keeps falling out.

It's been two months since I stopped wearing yours,
I honestly don't see a difference in the way it fits on my thumb.
That should be the end of it, but oh well, I guess it isn't.

I walked to the grocery store, paused at an aisle,
took my time frowning over chocolate bars.
You used to get me Munch, so I picked the KitKat.

I don't skip meals now, (well, most days I don't)
and in place of our routine conversations, I let a random show run in the background.

I drown noise with noise.

My days are decent.
I'm surrounded by mindless jibber jabber.
I participate.
I paste a bright smile.

“You look well now,” they say, “Well I am” I reply.

And as a matter of fact, I am fine.
9/10 times I am.

Then in a random mundane moment, memories of you resurface like a ring light and
in that single moment,
I let myself crumble.

“I don't want him back.
He isn't the same person anymore.
I'm not even me anymore.

If it's meant to be, it'll be.
He's the love of my life.
Well don't let him in,
when (not if) he comes back.

Do it from love, not for it.
You deserve happiness.
Both of you do.

You want love.
You are love.
The ocean doesn't look for its water,
Why will you look for what you have?

It is what it is.
and this too shall pass.”

So on and so forth my inner monologue goes,
and I stare at my phone wondering if I can conjure you from my thoughts.

I am kinder now. With myself, and everyone around.
I know you're proud,
and I kind of wish you'd say it to loud.

Can I possibly wrung out my favourite version of you, this time?

My thoughts swirl and I let them play.
Incantations in my head
Obligatory 3 am, weary sighs, contempt and pure rage.

Where is the calming lull of sleep, when you really need it to sedate your despair?

Resignation sets in, I play a familiar game.
I ask the universe and unbiasedly it delivers the same day.

"Universe, give me a sign, I'm really done this time.
Yellow flowers if he's coming back,
Dandelions if he's not.
Universe let me move on. This is the last time, "

In my version of He loves me, he loves me not
I break flowers, not petals.
I look for answers in colours and not action.

A wonderful set of coincidences occur one after the other,
Allowing a once in a lifetime chance to cross paths
But no matter how much they deserve to meet
These two must never do so.
These individuals litter bus stops and late night trains,
They aggregate during the rain
And disperse as the crosswalk signals to cross,
They find solace in solitude,
And comfort in crowds,
And would most likely tell their life story to a stranger,
But find it difficult to confide in a friend.
They catch glimpses of others through windows as they pass by
And, when found, are always focused on something else,
They trip on escalators when rushing for the next train,
They chase buses but give up half way through,
They lament a lost umbrella,
But rarely mourn the lost opportunity
Whisked away by a bus just leaving the terminal,
Or captured perfectly, like a portrait, in storefront windows.
They read books in transit and rarely look up,
They stare longingly in space, often focusing on another person’s face without knowing,
They eagerly await text messages
And check emails frequently.
All of these people are waiting,
And in fact,
Are waiting together,
Collectively, for someone else.
Although the circumstances that had brought them all together
Were nothing short of extraordinary,
It is just a normal day.
A quick glance around confirms it,
And away they go,
On night trains that someone else had just missed by a minute.
In this sense,
Cruelty seems unusually fair,
And thus why they must never meet.

Every day it gets harder and harder to smile and to pretend.
You end up fighting yourself,
a pointless battle really, as you neither lose nor win.
But those nagging thoughts and tiny voices keep piecing together a tapestry of coincidence.
And soon its all too real to simply ignore it.
Now its true, a fact, a real thing.
And you either confront it or be confronted by it, because little by little and too slow to notice you'll eventually drive yourself insane.

The spirit of time
lies upon your cheeks
Here we are
with the sweet search for a remedy
While the lights get dimmed
It is getting so dark here

Cutting of all information
that is there to seek
because time is born in the moment
that you follow the hint
Senses whistle like the wind
After the rain has fallen
I can hear them calling

Night owls eyes sense changing skies
He is coming
you are ready within
to cry, fly alive and humanize
You got to be ready every day to begin
when the call goes out for you
There is nothing left to think
Watching you, waiting for you to get through  and deal with the zone that is all opened up to you right in front of your own two feet
If you can see.

I didn't realize it that day, but maybe you did.
Maybe you saw it before I did, or maybe
      you were lying through your teeth.
     "Fake it 'til you make it," they say.
           You'd always been good at that.

Or maybe you just knew. Saw the look in my eyes,
      recognized all the signs before I even
            knew they were there.

I said I wasn't sure, but you didn't believe me.
      Didn't take no for an answer,
            but that had never been your strong suit.

"You're different," you said, and bless you for
actually believing that,
      because I never have.
      "I suppose you could say I'm not like other girls."

But with a beginning like ours, how could we not believe
the other was different?

It happened by chance, maybe a coincidence,
      serendipitous timing, I'd always believed
             everything happened for a reason.

But that's been us, I guess. A handful of
      happy accidents and coincidences, sunsets and city lights,
      dreams and adventures--
            ambition beyond measure.

It's wild to think I didn't know it then,
      but even wilder to think that maybe you did.

I found it kind of sinful
Kissing you in my Sunday shirt
With our hair array and messy
Lips swollen pink

You were the bad boy I thought
I could never attain
I was the wallflower you thought
You could never talk to

We had met through a series of
Coincidences that didn’t add up
Only answer was that fate wanted it
To happen, no matter what