You do it slowly, agonizingly
Remember the past as if it was
Another life, until it becomes so.
Realize that a photo changes
Every time you look at it.
Watch your phone, waiting
For it to ring, for loved voices
To fill your life with their stories,
And sigh when the phone never rings.
Sit somewhere solitary, probably with a view
Of an orange sunset fading into purple.
Feel parts of you that you thought were true
Leaving you, and feel the burn of it,
Like a bruise you realize you had
Only when it stings you while bathing.
Pin your expectations on something hazy,
Like people, or conversations, or the past,
And tell yourself again and again,
Life is not how you want it to be,
But still keep hoping for it to be.