I like traditions
reading the same book on holiday every summer
watching Frasier re-runs with my morning coffee
going to the same restaurant on my birthday
with the same seven friends
meeting at the pub on the corner
for a white wine buzz before heading to the city

Crawling back to you like I do every time
and promising myself I won’t

We are back to sleeping alone
centre of the bed
in places we used to call home

It feels empty
in a way it never did
before you shifted the mattress
before you stole the covers

It feels quiet
without the city on the outside
without you talking in your sleep

It all feels different
and so do I

I know all of your jokes
the stories you tell after a few beers
how your voice sounds at 4am
when you haven’t slept all night
because we had a fight
and you just want to make up

I know that you’re scared
of turning into your father
or coming anywhere close  
but I also know that you won’t

I know the day we met
I knew that I had to know you
but now that’s all gone

Tell people that I broke your heart
that I never loved you,
not really
not properly
not in the way you needed

Tell people I left you high and dry
that I could have stayed
that I could have tried

Tell people you were right
but I hope you can’t sleep at night

Tell people what you need to
but I hope the memories never leave your side

Tell people the lies you tell yourself
but I hope the regrets eat you up inside

I still sleep on the right side of the bed
add sugar to my tea in halves
keep my keys in my coat pocket
with notes of the things you said

I still wonder what you'll think about the mess
and all of these bad habits I have left
because I'm not myself anymore
just a version you kept in your head