What's Mine Should Just Stay Mine

It's quite odd being back in the city that was once yours and his. 

This city was mine. 

And then ours. 

And then his. 

I didn't come back here until I knew he was gone. 

The place that you once held so independently close to your heart is now littered with traces and remembrances of him. 

It's not the Mission. It's where he lived. 

It's not Market. It's where he worked. 

It's not El Techo. It's where we went to dinner. 

God, and in Silicon Valley it's not even "developers." It's what he used to do. 

And now he's back. 

Now the place I've made home and rebuilt is slowly chilling a thin ice over it. 

I can't skate anywhere without fear of seeing him. 

But what kills me the most..

The loss of what we could have been? 

The sex? 

The doubt? 

Nah...

The fact that he may be completely at risk of being 100% a robot zombie asshole? 

A little. 

But mostly... 

It's remembering the touches, the glimpses, the smiles. 

The details not even a picture can grasp. 

But rather the overwhelming remembrance of the intimacy shared. 

That's what'll get you. 

That's what gets you to be thinking about your fucking ex at 1 am in your so-called favorite city in the whole world. 

But then you wonder if you were just in love with the idea of your past relationship. 

I swear, if I was my own friend, I would have slapped myself by now. 

Like c'mon get over this bullshit. 

And you look at the details of the things that you loved. 

I see the details of San Francisco. 

And they bring me back to life. 

The fog rising. 

The micro influencer signs in the windows. 

Nerdy humor. 

The little things. 

 And that's why I've decided that 

What's Mine Should Just Stay Mine.