It is January and I keep rocking my head in-between my knees 
Until I feel car sick. The flowers are still sleeping and I wish I could, too.

I chain smoke cheap cigarettes until my hair smells less like you leaving home,

And more like you picking up the phone.

I call you on my fifth glass of wine, and block your number on my sixth.

On my seventh, I take foggy pictures of every sunset dipping behind the trees of our favorite park;

The only measure of time I know how to document

Your absence. 

As if to make it more real.

As if I don't chew gum until my teeth hurt.

As if I am not loud enough in my aching, no one can look.

It is January and I cherry pick my tinder dates until they all morph into an image of your face;

Cry to my friends until they 

All have somewhere to be.

Lock myself in an empty apartment

Until someone comes looking.

Wear my shoes on the wrong feet

Until I walk around town feeling

Like a different person.

The city holds shadows I am not ready to admit exist,

Not yet ready to admit I need to leave.

Wear lipstick a few shades too dark to find my stained cup easier at the bar,

Laugh with strangers like they hold all the answers to my wounds.

Bleed on all the people I try to flirt with, save phone numbers I'll never call. 

I don't know how.

It is January and I still don't know how

You can drink five glasses of wine,

And not think about me

The way I think about you