For the past year, I've been searching for an answer to this question.
That's what I always do; search.
I don't really do a lot of finding.
Last year, I left you behind, But I think you took me with you.

I search for summer,
For early July and cicadas,
Happiness and the cure to boredom,
I look in the mirror, and do some more searching.
I pick the reflection apart.
And then search for something else.

Anyways, please bring me back, and close the door behind you when you leave. It's spring, and there are bugs outside.

(p.s, i left the key under the welcome mat.)