Reaching the park, Naomi leaned down to unclip the leads of her dogs, scratching their heads before letting them run off, jogging behind them to make sure she kept them insight. Stepping around a tree, she sighed a little as she saw the small dogs jumping up at someone. “Jewel! Harley! No, don’t do that!” Offering the other person a small smile, the blonde shrugged a little as the dogs calmed down in their owner’s presence. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t brought them here in a while and they just got a bit too excited, I’m sorry if they bothered you.”
And if he called me at 3am and asked me to come over, I would come running no matter what the reason, no matter how tired I was. But if I called him at 3am, he wouldn’t even answer the phone. And that’s the saddest part.
1. Sleep in the middle of the bed.
This way you will wake and forget
about all the empty space
he doesn’t occupy.
2. Make breakfast for two.
Burn the second batch of pancakes
and laugh louder
than the garbage disposal when you throw
his helping down the sink.
Drown yours in syrup and drink milk
from the jug.
3. Don’t donate his old sweaters.
No stranger deserves to smell
like your heartache. Bury them
in the backyard and don’t you dare
give a eulogy.
4. Go to the bar and don’t take anyone home.
Get drunk and take a taxi to the park
downtown, the one with the goose
that almost bit you last summer.
5. Flip off that fucker. Not the goose,
but the bench; the ghost of him
that follows you like a manic shadow.
Scream at the waterfall you threw pennies into.
Make new wishes, one he’ll never be a part of.
6. Be someone he’ll never be a part of.
– daisylongmile, “Can you please write me a "steps to getting over someone” poem please?“
I saw you today
and turned right around,
felt all the breath seep out of my lungs,
deflated like a blow-up pool,
faded opaque so I was simply
a trick of light;
walked back home,
stripped down to my shuddering skin
and let the shower burn holes into my back.
I cannot look at you without seeing ghosts.
I keep the closet locked, speed past
the cemeteries, and keep a rosary wrapped
around my windowsill, but you are still here.
And I understand that heartache is not an excuse
for letting myself disappear,
but this is right now.
I just need one more day.
– Schuyler Peck, Running Into Him and Running Away