Dali

I built my world around you,
every cup of tea a promise to 
honor your stubborn memory.

Though our time together
was short as your temper, 
I couldn’t imagine being 
with anybody else after. 

That’s the thing about love—
it doesn’t just leave.
It lingers, even when it hurts,
like the smell of smoke knitted into your favorite sweater, 
or the hum of a song you can’t bear to remember. 

This city isn’t the same since you left.
The streets feel larger,
as though they’ve significantly stretched  
to persuade me out of searching for you.

Your name sits in my throat,
stubborn and soft, like honey:
too thick to swallow, 
too sweet to forget.