Out of office: update

We trapesd the streets of London, seeing if you could return your worn in shoes, ate lunch in Covent Garden and got rained on in Mayfair. I hid from your shots, forever an ensemble to your main character. We napped on the tube then cuddled in my houseshare, little kisses , last kisses. We walked to our favourite pub where you paraphrased my favourite quote
"You're perfect, you're just a perfect nutter", we conversed. I mourned you with every word you spoke, "what are we ? " You asked me. "I don't like labels", I replied. For what are we? Best friends who occasionally kiss , a foster girlfriend, a heartbreak waiting to happen.
I'm glad you've gone home for Christmas, it gives me time to be alone, I don't have to see your face , no more secret dates.
And I'll miss you, I'll miss planning Paris, I'll miss our walks around Soho , those little forehead kisses on a Sunday. 
I'll see you in January and when I'm ready I'll start something new. Someone who isn't related to being ooo.