It took a lot for me to love you,
and since then, I haven’t given that privilege to anyone else.
Not to say that I miss you, of course.
I’ve taken the natural defenses against unrequired nostalgia;
I cut my hair, grew it out again, and cut it again.
Watched my nieces grow up and let them paint my nails,
Climbed rocks that have weathered storms,
and still made it to the top.
The other day, I met someone who reminded me of you,
which doesn’t surprise me.
It’s bound to happen,
because at one point, you were my world and everyone in it.
But this one is an engineer who doesn’t seem the type to listen to classical music.
So maybe he didn’t remind me of you after all.
And that night, in the bathroom of that very bar,
I saw myself with my hair and my tattoos and my scars,
and she –fortunately and beautifully– doesn’t remind me you, too.
Here’s to 2019 and making more art and poetry and exploring a world that is much larger and much more wonderful than I could ever imagine!