sob story/break up poem/shit gets hard when shit gets hard

When I am smiling at the cluttered round table with pancakes, I think about when I first came here alone.
it was empty. I said:
this is where I will make a new life without him.

I have been writing this poem in my head for the past six months.
I describe the space I assumed he had settled so firmly in me
and the realization that there is no gaping hole hanging out.
hey, I'm fine! it was ready. I am ready. it was time.

I repeat the word gratitude.
and do not even need the parade of sob-ready shoulders that have parked themselves on the futon in our half-unpacked living room.
embodiment of an ideal:
the success of our making was its peaceful unravel.
lack of model:
the strangest part is the unexpected ease.

I know I think there is a whole universe inside of any partnership
and there was one.
so I guess I'm just shocked
that even though you're gone
the universe remains.

__

and yet when I am quiet with myself,
I am using the word 'noticing'
goddamn bitterness, people I want to yell at and rehearse doing so, but they never hear it.
smart body: I get so constipated when shit is hard!
because then I'm in there a long time and it stays quiet.
unapologetic as its own end: I know I'll take as long as I need to get it done

Comforting, I guess, that you weren't just your warm body.
I put so much thought in you that now I've got for me.
I notice:
I get so fucking passive aggressive
I want people to ask me about my artwork more, but I don't know how to talk about it.
I like how my body looks but I still equate this with being 'thinner'
I don't feel bad about being judgemental
I am really, really nervous about the future
I am totally indignant that other people don't cook for themselves as much as I do
I am totally mixed up about my feelings about nurturing
I wish my friends would say they loved me every day