"I'd tell you everything if you'd pick up that telephone."

I've spoken many words to you
into the empty air.
I know I've said that before,
but my one track mind has our
song on repeat,
and I cannot forget
the connections we made.

I would show up at your doorstep
with wildflowers of purple and orange
if I knew you stayed there.

Some days I still expect to hear from you,
forgive me,
and love me like we never stopped -
we didn't.

That's not something you forget.

I would write letters to you,
confess my sins of then,
now, and more,
poor taste or not.

I've lied to lovers recently and since,
some of those lies
lies to myself,
but lies nonetheless,
that I had moved past you,
but how can I?

How?