close the gap, close your howling teeth, close 
off your heart and stop crying 
you already never sleep

close the door, don’t dream of him
standing on the front step with the rain falling
and flowers clenched in a sweaty fist
or maybe with just an 
apology, just three words, besides,
“fuck, i’m sorry”
never felt right 
falling from his lips

close the box of his things, burn it or send it or
give it to goodwill, close the loop and 
kill his number, stop asking for answers
when he isn’t willing to swallow
the questions, close the circle of friends that
all ask why you’re not quite
over him

close the tabloids with dating tips and thin tips and 
steak tips he would have loved, pick up a controller 
and a first-person-shooter that would have made him
motion-sick, kill aliens, kill yourself somewhere else than
irl, kill a turret and pull yourself into the portal
after it

close yourself like a vacation house. it’s time
for spring-cleaning. this means: all you,
twenty-four seven. just you and yourself
and sorting the trash into the dustbin.

close out the dieting tips, join a dance class,
join a gym, work out because you want and
not because he’s asked for it. close the “new text”
he won’t read, pick up a notebook and a pen,
spill out everything you never said. delete it
or publish it on the internet. close the hair dye lid
after shaking it, it’ll get all over the counter and you’ll
have to bleach it. i think red looks good on you, own it.
close the new bra clasp onehanded. i think the 
eighty-five dollars on victoria’s secret weren’t at all
wasted, and by the way, you’re amazing. close down
the day with a little light yoga. sun salutations are good 
for your aura. close off a part of your savings for 
that tattoo you always wanted. a few dollars here and there
add up to five hundred. close the bar with your friends,
stumble home or walk them while sober – both are funny
and besides, we’re only young once we might as well stalk
the night like we own it. close the overdue charge 
at the library, start reading again whenever you’re lonely. 
close the pop-ups and watch movies illegally. close
your full dairy and feel good you actually finished one 
for once. close your pride and call your mom, 
because yes she’ll never approve of the haircut but
honestly it’s sort of humorous at this point and all that worrying
feels just like home. close hurt, close pain, close pining.

open yourself up again and say hello to the sun.
return to loving your home. it’s been 
long enough.