I wish I kept loving you,
when times got rough.
Memories flicker
when you sit near me,
but I'm too burnt out
for them to fully light.

When you talk soft,
I get sentimental for the slow nights.
Dusty '60s tracks,
blankets,
and couches we never could fit right.

I hope he keeps your smile wide,
I hope he holds your hand while you stroll through malls,
I hope he buys frames for the pictures you make him.

I thought I could run from us,
then it would all make sense,
everything novel,
everything pure,
and in the brief time of our parting
I have felt little, other than used.