California

Kissed me at a fountain. We planned or honeymoon with the water shooting far up. I found a new favorite cookie. We wanted to get a hotel right at that spot. I imagined a future where I would dance in my underwear with you. I would marry you. I don't want to think about marriage again because it wouldn't be you. It was always you but not anymore. It's not you who picks me up from work. It's not you who I call when I have a bad day. I still hold my breath when I think I might see you. Suck in my tummy, shoulders back and pretend that the sight of you doesn't tear me apart. I've been crying again.