Teaching Myself to Miss You Differently

[busker]

Author note: Open to detailed crit, especially thoughts on the last stanza. This has been through a LOT of editing already though, so please be nice.

--
We only have this timeline, but somewhere 
we are backlit by balloon arches, plastic punch bowls
my palm on the small of your back,
the satin forest of your dress swaying 
 
and somewhere you are winking at me 
in the gender studies section 
converse squeaking closer 
to slip my number between the pages of Judith Butler for you
 
and somewhere you are pushing me hard 
against the slick wall of The Eagle
sinking to my knees, your hands in my hair
giving each other something nameless and electric
 
but today I am teaching myself to love our untwined pasts
dance parties and midnight movies and porch swings 
contoured to bifurcated cities
 
and today I am leaning on the pressure points
of my loneliness 
cooking for you in an empty kitchen
tasting you beneath the blankets of sleep
corseting myself into waiting
with the ache of taut bowstrings 
 
The weight of your absence
transcribes bruises across a body reaching 
scanning the horizon of queer bars, diner booths, book clubs
seeding cloudbursts and autumns heavy with longing
so that your story might envelope me in heady embrace 
those precious moments we collide 
 

It's a mixed poem for me. 
The lines in green are strong. The ones in orange are cliched expressions.
I think you'd get something more powerful if you trimmed the poem by 50%