please dont ask me if i miss it when you know that i do, please dont ask me how it felt to sit in the passenger seat of your car every day for four months straight. because i will tell you. how it felt like yellow lights in a dimly lit café on monday nights, like ***** snow underneath your tires, like a resurrection of fresh air after feeling trapped since september. every now and then i come back to this. now that it's february and i cant remember what your house smelt like. i often wonder what your parents think happened to me. and your sister. i've started to wonder if i would have gone to her wedding with you. i hope she's happy, and i hope you are too. don't get me wrong, i needed you to leave i know i did. sometimes it doesn't feel like you did much for me although i know you did. sometimes it doesn't feel like you were ever part of me although i know you were. now that it's the end of february the weather has started to become lighter and i keep finding myself rolling the window down, making the music louder and wanting to sing, wanting to smile, wanting to feel what it's like to be euphoric again and i just, can't. not right now. i don't know if a year later can be considered "too soon" but i do know that i hate you, and the way you made the snow feel like you so now i dont even feel at home when i look out my bedroom window. i hate you, and the way you made the car feel like our safe space so now i don't feel safe when i'm driving with my mother. i hate you, and the way you made me think that you would stay, the way you made me feel like you were going to be a part of my family the way you threw me away as if it was easy for you. i hate you for everything that reminds me of you like guitars and troye sivan and sleepovers and driving down the ******* highway and being someone that cares about you so much i'd miss saying goodbye to my dad to spend another night with you. so don't, do not ask me if i miss it when you think you know that i do. because i don't miss any of it. not anymore.
i finally finished this poem i wrote for you. did you ever finish that song you were writing for me?