something about waxing poetic about a playlist restarting at the beginning as i drive by your house (again)
“And i thought that i would miss it while still wishing that i didn't”
a bag of someone else’s clothes in my backseat
a mindset that i wish i wasn’t still holding out for a “want to take the train again? for old times sake? come home, babe, it’s time we take that hatchet and throw it in the schuylkill”
a no longer flickering light near the cemetery
i can still see myself teetering on that edge, reaching for a short term hand
i don’t know what to do with this
i’m the only one that still drives home