my therapist told me I seem grounded
but I didn’t tell that sometimes I miss you so much it hurts to breathe
that I look at pictures of us and my heart shatters
i didn’t tell her that somedays i forget how to get out of bed
that I see you in everyone else
that I can’t delete the texts yet
I didn’t tell her that somedays West Virginia feels like another world
And I definitely didn’t tell her that I still dream about showing up on your doorstep  
that all I want to ask you is why I wasn’t worth fighting for

two long weeks with dial tones and texts that won’t deliver
I deleted your number just to add it back
Burned your pictures just to look for my backups
Thursday afternoon, I’m staring at the window thinking of you
I’m realizing that you are gone
That the leaves on the tree still flutter
The pavement will still glitter
People will carry on
The world will keep spinning
The clouds will keep raining
The sun will keep rising
And so will I, so will I

but you text me that night
You tell me you’re sorry that you’ve made a mistake
I’m not too far gone to disagree anymore
So I turn the radio up in my car
I push my hand out the window reaching for the trees
I let the wind blow my air
And I let you go
oh how I let you go
as I learn how to love myself more than I love the idea of you

was too busy trying to find a way to say goodbye
that I didn’t realize you already had

and just like when a tree falls in the forest
it will make a sound regardless of who is there to hear it
and you, my dear, are still beautiful, even when he’s not around to see it

talked to your best friend for hours
left feeling emptier than when I picked up the phone
I keep piecing it back to find where I went wrong

Tell me what I have to do to make you miss me like I miss you
Tell me what I have to do to make you look at me like you looked at her
what is it about me you can’t love
why am I so forgettable to someone who’s so memorable to me
why am I so in love with someone who feels nothing but hate towards me
and why can’t I let it go even when I know it’s been over for some time now

9:48
I’m listening to that song you hate
and I’m wondering how your hair feels between my fingers
someone told me yesterday to stop falling in love with stories
people aren’t poetry, they aren’t sad vinyls that keep you up at night
they aren’t flowers pressed in yellowed pages
but darling, you’ve never been anything other than art to me
but I’ve also heard that the whole thing about art is that you never really want it to be true
maybe that’s why I blocked your number and threw away all the notes
because I never wanted this story to be true
didn’t  want to live through you leaving me

called you just to see if it was really over
I was hoping you’d convince me to stay
I realized my answer was in your voicemail