An old draft.

Whatever we said to each other and everything that meant the world to us; the silence, stolen kisses, moments up against the wall, sharing food, staring at stars that fall, words said, promises made, the home we dreamt of, the world we wanted to tour;

They don’t mean shit now.

Remember when you said you’d cooking for me? Just think of what you took from me. No goodbyes, not one tear shed. You took off. This is an apology from me, to myself for trusting you in vain.

All your love letters still smell like you, makes me wonder where you bought that perfume. I’d burn the place down, walk out and still look cool. Just can’t get it out of my head. Those little souvenirs you bought me keep laughing in my face, tell me I’ve been played. Should’ve known when I decided to stay.

The armband you made swam down the drain, the book that I always wanted? I burnt it to ashes.

One last toast to us and the love that you showed;

I’ll tell myself this before I let you go:

You’re awful and you don’t deserve to know.

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