i want to say, i'm gone.
i left you, emotionless, that
i don't care about your highs and lows because i returned the stock i bought in your life and who knows when you returned mine.
i want to say the next time your grandmother takes you to play mini golf i know you'll think of me.
i want to reside in the idea that i left you missing me and
weeks from now when you stumble across love letters addressed to me but never sent, and
you make the elementary mistake of reading them, you'll cry, eventually so hard
you have to call.
i want to say i was ever confident in anything besides you and i, but
i'd be lying.
i'd be lying, because i'd still blankly stare at your text message for a million minutes wondering how to respond until I came to the conclusion not to.
i'd be lying because i'd still stay awake until six a.m. just to hear your slurred words saying
how much you missed me.
i want to say i know how to be a brick in your stomach, how to be your broken cigarette, but
i'd be lying