the week that you spent here was the best week of my life. away from florida and orange bottles with labels about whatcouldhappen and whenitsokay and whyyoushouldnever. we watched nickolodean and talked about how it would feel to grow up and have a family. i said "kids aren't my thing," and you said i didn't know what the words meant. you promised i'd fall in love with the smile of a toddler, and you promised that you'd be there to see it.
oneoutoftwoain'tbad.
the skeleton's of my past are clawing a hole through the closet that i've kept them in. cobwebs won't tangle them long enough for me to escape their grasp; they're holding me hostage by way of the ghosts that are swimming through my mind and screaming to know where'd you go and why'd you leave.
i went somewhere better.
because you left
just like you promised you wouldn't.
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