You'll see me in pictures wearing your old band shirts.
and the smile someone else gives me now.
Truth is sometimes I think we can't get rid of everything.
like it minimizes the meaning.
And I don't know how to breathe...
without all of the pieces of myself.
Even the ones that leave my hands splintered and bleeding.
broken glass fragments I pull out and press into napkins.
But I am tired, and weak, and it is 1:00 in the morning.
and just because I think of you, doesn't mean that I miss you.
I'm okay with where I am.
and I'm glad that it's miles from where we were.