It rained in the city today,
and for the first time I didn't rush to tell you how badly I wished I were with you.
How badly I wished to be curled up next to you,
watching a movie,
laughing at your stupid jokes,
talking about the memories and the people from home.

I wonder if that means something.
I find it funny that I used to count each month as something special,
now we just round up to the closest year (two).

I wonder why you can't hear me when I talk to you,
why you can't do simple things like text me back,
or call me on the phone.

I could drown myself with memories from last year,
the phone calls,
the harsh words,
the times when I was the one who was too busy to talk.
But I try not to.

I don't know when things changed,
when you got too busy for me,
and when I decided to care too much
and then not at all.

It rained in the city today.
And I didn't think of you,
not even a little bit,
not at all.