Candles are cliché. Shopping, a bore.
Practicing signing the childhood name
is just picking at the scabs.
A run is too lonely. A book, too removed.
Vows of poverty smack of desperation
and prayers fall on deaf ears.
Road trips are dangerous. Housework numbs.
Fasting hollows you. Feasting bloats.
Whiskey just makes you throw up.
Movies are escapist.
Baths are too girly. A hug, but from whom?
Confession requires a witness.
A red-eye to Vegas is far too expensive.
Animal sacrifice, much too involved.
Throwing a party takes an awful lot of work
and incense sets off the smoke alarm.
Trying on his old clothes
might work if you’d kept them.
The ring might still fit
if you dared.
Go to bed early.
Cry if you must.
Before it’s all over
sing just one song.
from among those you loved
you chose to love him.