A few years ago
you were written all over me
you could read me
I was your book

you wrote your own stories
and I repeated them
when I left
when you shut me out

I will never forget that time
a few years ago
it was the holidays
we hung out
you wrote a story that day
a story I wish I could someday tell

maybe one day it'll be framed
shown to the world
but even when I did
the only person who would understand
would be you

the book is closed
and I know
ill never be the same
as I was a few years ago