I have already filled my breaking bookshelves with my modest library. I have already put away my few plates and glasses. I instinctively know my new commute complete with shortcuts and speedtrap hotspots. I have already made a new name for myself in my new office with my new bosses. I have set aside all the little pieces of nostalgia, hung my pictures, and ground in a new habit of leaving my keys by the front door just like I used to do when I lived with you. I have made all the motions of moving except moving on.
Some days, I miss you less, some days more. I don't ever feel like I miss you less - just that on the days that I miss you more, I miss you so much more. That is the difference. You said the distance would get easier in time. The distance isn't any easier. It is just easier to distinguish.
So I sip whiskey in fresh sheets in low lights and listen to MC5. I smoke a little tree. I lay back and wait to fall asleep. If not sleep, then I wait for your call. Sometimes sleep comes quickly. Sometimes the call does not come at all.