There was a girl
who was in love with your soul.
Loving you was like breathing,
even when you kept leaving.
— -
Do you remember her name
when you strum her guitar,
and sing that song she wrote for you?
— -
You
were an explosion.
In her heart, in her head.
But she,
was just warm
against your chest.
— -
But it was fine.
For a while, they were fine.
— -
For three years, they were fine.
If
screaming
and
fighting
and
crying
and
dying
was fine.
— -
Now she’s walking alone,
it’s starting to rain
every day.
You’re nowhere to be seen.
— -
Now you’re singing alone,
without her sweet melodies
and delicate fingers strumming along.
It’s starting to sound
like you might be
lonely.
— -
You’ll never know
that she kept that necklace of yours
like a noose of grief around her neck.
And that song you wrote to ask her to prom
like a bleeding wound inside her chest.
— -
She kept your jackets, too.
Never washed them to keep the smell of you.
— -
She keeps it all locked away,
safe.
But she doesn’t know why.
She realizes it’s something
called
addiction.
— -
No.
It’s been so long,
she’s probably fine.
— -
Even if she still walks alone,
sometimes in the rain.
Even if she starts
to forget your face.
Even if she wonders
if you still sing that song,
or if you ever get lonely.
— -
No.
Who is she to care?
— -
There was once a girl who gave you her soul.
All you gave in return
were promises you broke.
— -
She doubts you even remember her name.
And that’s okay.