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.