you can pretend that you don’t know me,
but your behavior won’t reverse what
the month of April was like.
truthfully, I don’t care if what she told you
made things different, as long as
you stop treating me like ****.

the first time you called me crying,
there was a wasp in your living room.
I ran over as fast as I could. I killed
the wasp, picked you up off the
bathroom floor, and took you to the mall.
this is the sort of excitement you bring
into everyday life. the next time you
called me crying, he was gone. I could
run as fast as I could, but no matter
how much I wanted to, I couldn’t just
pick you up off the bathroom floor and
take you to the mall. not this time.

two years later, I can finally
listen to our songs without
thinking about us singing them.
that's what they call progress.

maybe our paths were
bound to cross eventually.
she calls it fate, but I don’t
believe in that anymore.

even if I went back and changed things,
it still wouldn’t have made a difference.
but ****, your last name
would have looked good on me.
I think that’s what hurts the most.

my best friend would say
that I’m crazy for wanting you back.
most of the time, I try to convince myself
that it’s just the nostalgia talking,
but four o clock in the morning
is when the secrets come out.

I hope you find great things
wherever you're going.
perhaps one day, I'll have
the courage to start looking.