I could've lived my whole life not knowing five months after we dated (today) you're in my neighborhood.
My sweet, safe, tiny, gated neighborhood.
You don't even know it's mine.
On our date, I chose to drive myself to give me the safety that you would never truly know where I lived until I wanted you too.
I wonder who's passcode you used to get in- your friend's, your brother's, your new girlfriend's. I would rather choke on my tears than let it be the latter.
In another universe you're in my neighborhood but the passcode you used was mine. Your car is in the spot behind my back door. You're in my apartment, in my room, in my bed.
For months I used to pass by your complex every-other-day on my commute to university and searched the turning cars in hope one of the drivers was you. Now I drive through my house street and hold my breath till I'm blue, begging this universe to no longer let me run into you.