I saw a necklace I thought you'd like.
I still like the sound of your name
even though it hurts to say.
I never liked it on anyone but you.
The healing bracelet you gave me
has been in my jewelry box for 13 months.
I wore it every day for more than a year
I haven't seen or spoken to you since Marie's birthday
September 9th
I wonder if losing you was part of my healing or yours.
Do you still dance to Florence & the Machine?
Do you still tell our stories?
Remember Stab Wound Guy
and the time we took videos of each other
throwing up in the same weekend
and it wasn't revealed until brunch the next day?
Or the cab driver that said "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing"
is the most romantic song?
What do you tell our friends when they ask where I've been?
I can't forgive you for saying
I would have been ***** even if I hadn't come to Chicago.
I can't forgive you for saying
you needed me.
You held me crying on your bathroom floor.
Do you know I got a cat?
When was the last time you saw your sister?
I was never more honest than when I was with you.
Secrets in stairwells.
I don't look at our pictures.
I dreamt I saw you and you looked away.
I only speak about you gently.
I still think about you daily.
You are one of three things I wouldn't change
about my time in Chicago.
You taught me how to eat an artichoke
and how to survive.
Just so you know, I'm okay.
I wish you could see me smile now.
I still wish I knew how to thank you
or if you know I'm sorry.
What do you remember about me?