Perhaps it's letting go of the idea of you or the possibility of us that's the hardest part. Physically, you're 4710 miles away but I haven't decided whether or not that makes getting over you easier or more difficult. I would give anything to be able to crawl into bed next to you at three in the morning after a night out without you; to whisper, "I'm so tired" and have you answer, "I know, sweetie" and squeeze me a little bit tighter. You're far away and yet you're still so unbearably close. In the corner booth of your favourite bar. At the bus stop where we had our first kiss. In our neighborhood, at the top of the hill that dips and overlooks the city. You're not here, but you're everywhere and I don't know how to move on in a city that won't let me forget you.
