I pick small flowers from the curvature
of the nape of your
neck;                          
i wake up,        one minute:
you    are    
gone.            

I move on                
with my life,
i move out              
of these same walls,
like the                                                        
next                                                                
fervent                                                                          
dream,                                                        where I still  believe
I'm over                                          it,                                                      
I'm

just still kind of  
in love with  
you.  

i'm sorry always                                                                    
sorry i pretend                                                                        
like I                                                                                        
care                                                                                      
or                                                                                    
don't care                                                                            

and                                                                    

I don't really know where the hours  
went, or the years of life you wasted on
me.              
x