dear jane,

i think about you every day

lost part of myself losing you

lost more of myself loving you

you said “lets start over”

but didn’t stop what started when i left

but, i guess i’m the one who left

so in a way its all my fault

i was so excited to see you

dinner back where we first started

i stop for flowers along the way

i can feel my heartbeat now

its harder to fill my lungs with air it seems

probably because im so full of shit

you don’t want to say it’s over

want to leave the door open

but not just for me

not just for me though, right?

“thats never what i wanted”

but you want it now

sometimes you don’t get closure

she crosses the street and throws out the flowers

but holds onto the leftovers

and in a way,

so do i.