i don’t think of you often
only when
my eyes open on each new day
as i wash away the day before
when i hook together lacy things meant for you
or lift stockings to my thighs
draping my neck in pearls
as i slip into heels that walk so easily toward you
i stir you into well traveled coffee
and eat singular breakfasts
on rainy commutes
on unwalked streets
when choosing oranges at the market
when learning
laughing
breathing
when my heart collapses under the weight of the miles
as i fall asleep craving you
as i dream
as i consider a future
full of shared house keys
his and hers towels
white dresses
grandchildren
cemetery plots
i will stop considering you
when i place the second date
upon my headstone