we sat on the stairs passing the thing that killed your dad between our lips
you weren’t even a good kisser
but your hands were warm
and i believed you when you said you were sorry
and i thought it was obvious how i was feeling
but you said you had to go and i said okay
now i’m in someone else’s bed, it’s big enough for three of me
but i’m alone
the bath water ran cold too quickly
there’s too many commercials on tv
and i miss my guitar
i want to go home
i want to be miserable in my own bed
with my own cold bath water
and a clean shirt
i want to rip out the binding
to make room for more pages
so that every ending doesn’t feel like a rejection
like chasing after a car with an open trunk
or realizing i drank too much
it’s starting to rain here
i always know when it’s going to rain
but i didn’t that night
and i guess it feels like i should have
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