can you find me?
i'm the last of what's left
of what you left me
when i turned away and left you
for good.
two years doesn't seem long at 3am
and in the end it doesn't matter if i get the dates right
it just matters if i write ambiguously enough
nonsensical enough
i'm weighed against things you never even knew about
so i grab her hand, hold it against my soul
and leap off the curb.
