I sit
Realizing my day will consist
Of nothing more
Than bloated teas bags
Rain splattered windows
Sad songs
That make me miss you
And bad poetry
Because I can't stop
Thinking about what
You're doing with your day
And wondering
If you're thinking
That this would have been
The perfect day
To drink too much tea
Put that record on repeat
And ignore the rain on the windows
Because you're too wrapped up in me