I’m good at forgetting.
I’ve forgotten you already.
I don’t remember the perfect shape of your lips
or the feeling when you trace your fingertips down my spine
light as a shiver.
I can’t picture your hands
strong and gentle
as they hold me steady.
I barely even think about the way you make me feel
like a field of flowers
is blooming in my belly.
My life isn’t in parts
split before and after
because it’s not like you changed me.
I was fine before you loved me.
I’ll be fine if you don’t.
And I don’t even care
that fine is all I’ll ever be without you.