untitled ( a poem by emily xyz)

now that the insanity of loving you is over
I buy flowers for myself
I can hear the words of others
and listen to the thoughts of people
not you / I can walk into a perfume shop
and become acquainted with dense
french overlays of tuberose, orange and wood
without worrying that you are bored
outside the door

I will not come around to your view
that our time was wasted
together / I remember better than you
I guess

I am glad to have had you
and I am glad to have
the space in my mind
the time in my days
even the loneliness around me
it is a loaded emptiness
a field whose crop has been cut
and taken, but
the ground is
still / black / full
beneath my feet