I find it funny how you always said that
you loved me.
And yet you disappeared wihthout a trace
here I am three years later and I still want to see your
stupid face.
And I know that I'll get that ******* anchor tattoo
the one you promised to never remove.
I'll never have a ceiling fan in my bedroom
because I'm certain it will always remind me of you.

Why did it have to be you?

I look up at night and think of our songs
I see the clouds and I know you're flying a kite somewhere.
Are you painting your blue-grey skies?

I'll never know what truly happened,
but I can only assume it's not great.
You haven't responded in years,
and yet, I still cannot bring myself to hate
everything that you did or had the audacity to say.  

When I think about living to be an old man I think of the fact that you never will.
You always said that you never would but I was always convinced that you could.

And this isn't really a poem, but a letter that somewhat rhymes.
And I think that's okay because I don't owe the world anything.
I don't write anything for anyone except myself

So I guess this letter is for me.