I laughed because this reads like a love poem, but really I just walked through a doorway today,
stopped because it felt familiar and realised it was because I missed my friend who used to wait there for me.

I keep going to message you at work in my breaks -

I’m still wearing this morning’s gym socks
(do you think anyone can tell?)

I tried on a pair of pants yesterday
and wanted to die in the changing rooms.

I accidentally dressed like a yoga instructor today.
Black bra. White shirt. Shit.

Thoughts on a dark lip and white shirt in summer
- too much?

You know.
All the things that really matter.

It’s warming up now and it makes me think of last year -

The Lindauer at lunches and trading forkfills
of each others salads. The insights

into what an investment in black olives
can really do for your evening meal.

I miss putting my arm around your
camel coat – the one we took to parties,

left behind but always returned
in good enough condition to wear to work next week.

We sat on jetties, your tiny ankles above the sea
too premature for no tights but we did it anyway.

Now I walk home late after work, past where you used to,
a stray cigarette rolling in my pocket

without you to share it with.