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Nov 2015
I remember one night we shared a bottle on your kitchen floor
"Love doesn't always slam the door on her way out"
At the time that was comforting, almost peaceful, and I loved you for it
But lately I've been thinking about it over and over again, the thought haunting my mind
I should have asked "What happens when she leaves quietly in the dead of night without a word? How long would it take to notice her absence?"
Now I wish she had slammed the door behind her, at least then I would have noticed she had gone
I can't lay claim to his words, and neither can he. They belong to another
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