Let us say Goodbye

Let us say goodbye then,

You and I.

Let’s walk away, and begin to forget.

The kisses, of course,

And the remembering -of firsts and quirks, a handful of dates.

Let us put behind us our secret knowledge,

And all those times you dropped a kiss on the tip of my

nose.

The first time I ever wrote a love letter, I titled it ‘This is not a love letter’

And put it in caps, to emphasize how much it was not a love letter.

Let us obliterate the memory of that;

Leave it to the impersonal web of pixels and circuitry,

And the people who will stumble upon it one slow afternoon at work.

Let us erase the last traces of

That feeling in my chest when you laugh,

And how you call me ‘bitch’ with great affection.

Let’s rub away at the kisses

Till their last vestiges are wiped off the corners of our lips.

Let us kiss strangers till their tongues take away the electric of

Your tongue on my lips

And my lips on your fingers,

And your fingers playing a riff

In the dark.

Let’s forget the time you kissed my damp eyelashes (surprising yourself),

And pulled out the sting.

The world will not cease to turn,

And nothing will have been lost.

Except- a few brief hours

Where my hand on your chest was yours.

Nothing except laughing hysterically as we plotted murder,

and talked over each other, trying to win.

Nothing but staring at pixelated smudges on screens

Till our heads ached.

Nothing except the wind on our backs as we ambled home,

A happy tangle of limbs.

So you see it would be easy.

Let’s not make a fuss now.

Let’s not ascribe this affair undue importance

So the stars did not align for us

(They don’t align for anyone, you fool.)

The gods did not send any angels our way

(We never prayed for them, you see.)

Everything fades after a while,

Even memories, even pain, even something that came very close to being

Love.

Like a sadness I can’t shake. You were right. That time when facebook fucked up and I got all the consolatory and concerned messages, and you got none- you were right. People probably knew that you’d be okay, and you are. They knew I wouldn’t, and I’m not.

I’m going through my midlife crisis early it seems. I can’t eat because it’s too much effort to chew. I sat at a cafe for hours and hours today because I just couldn’t go to the big empty house and face myself. I tried to eat this delicious brownie and managed to finish only half; it made me nauseous. I’m such a cliche, it’s stupid. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t focus on my work, I’m perpetually two seconds away from tears. I ordered a guitar today with my roommate. It’ll come in five days. I’m going to get a tattoo in March, my first one. I’ve already decided on the design.

I can do all of this. I can eat the mixed-berry ice cream that my roommate made at home, and I can sing along to Lana Del Rey and Augustana. I can change the wallpaper on my cellphone and desktop, and shift around files and rename folders on my laptop. I can try to hit on the deadbeat barista with a bandana. But all the while my heart beats a dull tattoo beneath my skin: I want you, I want you. Honey, I want you. So bad.

I miss you. You don’t miss me. It’s that simple really, isn’t it?