The week ends
The hive goes home
I choked up in the parking lot
And then go do my laundry
When I was eighteen I got catcalled
After dropping my boyfriend off
At the airport
But then the man saw my face
A sobbing mess
And cut his comment off
Instead, an alarmed: ‘Are you okay?’
It’s been a long time
Since goodbyes have felt like that
Like they would last forever
It was like I was always a thousand miles away
From what I thought I wanted
I was wrong
Eighteen-year-olds are often wrong
And twenty-two-year-olds
And twenty-nine-year-olds too, I hear
But I am closer now
Literally, physically
Proximity matters
The miles you put between hearts
The time you spend together
Squashed on a sofa
Or squashed into their shoulder
While you cry at one in the morning
It matters
Then we go to sleep
The days pass
The week ends
The bags get packed
And for a second I choke up
Just feeling the farewell embrace
But I don’t trade in forevers anymore
See you soon
With Love,
Natalie