No more loose tongues on West 4th.
No more liquid courage to cure my ails.
No more late night texts buzzing in my ear.
No more pulling you into corners,
straining my eyes to find your light in the dark.
I cut off all ties from what ifs, if onlys, and semi-regrets.
I will not depend on you to fill the hours.
I won't look for your meaningless banter.
I will stand by myself on street corners and
wait for the sun to graze my cheek instead.
I'll take long walks on Coney Island Avenue and
buy myself a bouquet of flowers for everyday you did not.
I'll pick up new habits, bury myself in new hobbies.
I'll take up knitting.
Search for every color you bruised my heart.
I'll stitch up bundles of soft yarn around
this discarded body you left a long time ago.
I'll warm up this plush heart, these yearning limbs
and point at myself in the mirror, whispering every day
"You need to sweat her."
I'll keep myself warm morning, noon, and night.
This is the year I choose to love me.