your father sent for the bookcase today. i guess that’s the end, then, isn’t it? this is all still hard to believe as i look around our scattered things, our lives intertwined in my old shirts and your high heels. 

i miss you. every day.  

i miss you every day.

remember when we went down to the river and skipped rocks? my hands were blistered and i was so frustrated that i couldn’t get the pebbles to 



hop the way you could. but i basked in your light, got high off of just being close to you, breathing you deep into me.

that night we loved each other passionately and desperately. we drank grapefruit juice when we ran out of alcohol, but it was on you that i was drunk. your skin, your hair, your eyelashes. all of your parts that combined to make this extraordinary being, this vessel that 



i listen to the same sad songs. 

i’m packing my things.

there’s a bra on the banister i can’t bear to move. this was you, dropping things just so, making a mosaic of our home.

i’m packing my things.

i’ll keep walking until my steps are no longer saturated with you.

i’ll walk a long