Today I walked through my old neighborhood
Under the bridge, down the big broad hill
my feet knew the path
my dog knew it too, trotting beside me, trying to pull towards our old home
we’d worked so hard to learn these streets
we still knew them like we deserved to.

Cheeks rosy cold, fingertips curled into palms into pockets
I found myself holding my breath
trying to name the feeling rushing in my body
the quiet whish-whish of traffic
the night clean and clear.

“I’m thinking about moving back to Seattle,” I told her earlier.
In a tumble of confession, of shame but wanting no shame
I spoke the thing aloud
where it had so far only been heard in my head
and in the ears of my Beloved when I felt the most sad.

I crossed at the light with strangers guiding us
and hopped a bus to Ballard
just so I could be alone a little longer.

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