I hope I feel whole again come summer.
I put everything you wrote me away, and the little knick knacks, even the rocks you picked for me on hikes.
Even the rocks.
There's a spot on the mirror where you wrote you are perfect, which of course I erased, but after a long shower, its shadow came for a visit.
I tried to wipe it away.
No luck.
You made me unclean again.
In lieu of crumbling, I cocked my head back and said Thanks, bro.
There will be a day where I don't hear you in every soft melody, man.
The side of the bed you liked to sleep on won't seem so separate to me, pal.
I locked the door between us this time.
Somewhere out there you're looking at the same sky as me.
That'll have to be enough, dude.