I heard you weren't doing that great and part of me wanted to call and see just how bad you were but then I started thinking about a few of the things you ruined for me after you left.

Green eyes.
The taste of cinnamon.
The pink pens in my bag.
Mixed CD's.
Hydrangeas.
Fireflies and small country towns.
The drive way at my parents house.
The old road you used to live on.
The fact that I feel you in every part of this ****-hole town.

I heard from an old friend things were getting better for you now and I think... it's for the best that we never speak again.