Ossington is now just another stop on my way to forgetting.
Yet I remember.
The door has closed and I can no longer see inside your life.
Yet I still feel invited.
You sent me a postcard with a couple of words.
Yet all I wanted was a long, unending letter.
It's a new city. A new girl.
Yet, you.
I wonder about the size of your smile.
How much teeth can she see?
I allow myself to think you'll never smile like you did with me.
I barely know you.
Yet I know you so.
I see a movie that couldn't be more different from us.
Yet the same.
What a happy ending. I cry.
My heart is full of certainties and decisions.
Yet I question. Yet it hurts.
I saw your mom the other day.
Yet you weren't there.
I dreamed of you.
Yet I woke up.
I've convinced myself it is just a nightmare.
Yet I sleep
With your clothes
In your bed
On your seat on the sofa's arm
In your city, within your life.
Yet me. Yet mine. Yet to be lived.
Yet to believe.
Just send me a word or two.
Yet don't say anything more.
Leave me longing, leave me wishing.
Leave.
Yet don't, not just yet.
