tonight
i changed your name back
in my phone, no longer
feeling the need to
just stop
talking to you
i do still love you, not actively,
but in a way that doesn’t hurt
in the same way that i love
music, art, food- sometimes begrudgingly,
without expectation of reciprocation,
appreciating the beauty, the feelings
sorrow and joy, and not what it gives me
beyond that
i worry for you, not actively,
but pervasively, fluttering thoughts
here, there, a whisper
of you, and that you are
at worst, okay
at best, happy
what is worry if not loving someone?
it feels good, strange,
maybe a little sad,
but i can do sad
some notes: i recently (mid-may) saw the overworked chef and it was.. fine. do i wish we had the kind of connection where seeing one another didn’t confuse me and actually felt good? sure! but also sometimes that’s life baby! anyway, i came away from that night with a new poem of them (yes, there have been many after the zine, some to be shared here over time and some to be hoarded forevermore).
weird and cool and sad how love morphs and looks over time.