I heard that it only takes twenty-one days
To rewire circuits of addiction.
If a day is a marker, undoing my ways,
I’ll hold to the time with conviction.
On the first day, I’ll strip off the feel of your touch.
I can’t handle the sting and its weight is too much.
On the second, I’ll wipe off the print of your kiss,
Convincing myself it’s the last thing I’d miss.
The third day, I’ll block off the gaze from your eyes,
Of all of your features, they’ll lead my demise.
Number four and I’m sore from our jokes of the day:
The laughs that we had and the sweet things that you’d say.
Day five and I’m high off the smell of your skin.
I’m starting to get the condition I’m in.
Today is day six and I need a fix,
Cause single and I just don’t seem to mix.
Day seven, I’ll cross out our words to past tense.
I love you—I loved you. This doesn’t make sense.
Day eight and I’ve relapsed, I’ve thought of the past;
I can’t bear to part with this picture so fast.
Day nine and I’m fine, not moping or sad.
Unfortunately, that’s been replaced with, “I’m mad.”
On day ten, I’ll start eating and keeping it down,
And when you’re in mind, not suppressing a frown.
Day eleven, day twelve, they’re starting to blend.
Seems my poor, fractured heart is starting to mend.
It’s day fourteen now, someone mentioned your name,
And something about it doesn’t sound quite the same.
Day fifteen, I’m losing these feelings of woe,
Forgetting about things that I don’t want to know.
Day sixteen is brighter, I’m out with my friends,
I’m seeing beginnings accompany ends.
Day eighteen, I’m laughing, I’m starting to feel,
Discovered I no longer need you to heal.
Day nineteen, nostalgic, I’m all out of whack,
But that’s not me saying that I need you back.
Day twenty, I’m treading in moments of past,
Yet all the time knowing not all good things can last.
And today is the day, how different it is:
I love being mine as I’m no longer his.