The One

I go to our gym alone.

No more tired smiles,

protein-packed meals

while watching silly shows.

No more afternoon naps,

sunlight stretching like cats,

orange fur floating

as we muss up his hair.

Inside jokes with no home,

future plans untouched,

memories gather dust—

I’m not supposed to clean them.

Who am I to romanticize

reruns of our best hits,

knowing I’m not your love,

knowing I’m the one who left?