I finally deleted your pictures, I finally removed the last of us. I hate how I glow in each frame that remains, Hate the wine glass, my lip stain, Hate to see my favorite dresses I’ll never wear again, Hate the pictures of food aesthetics, the art on my plate. Your face can’t be in my view anymore— The video of the first day, too good to be true. What’s left of our first rendezvous is only a memory, The…
