THINGS I USED TO KNOW

THINGS I USED TO KNOW

i knew the sound of your keys

in the door.

i knew which side of the bed

to leave warm.

i knew the shape of your name

when i said it

out loud.

i don't know any of that anymore.

but somehow

my body still flinches

at the sound of someone else's keys

in someone else's door.

and that

is the part nobody warns you about

how love leaves the apartment

but stays in the body.