I still think about you.
Years later I still wonder some nights if you think about me too.
I still have all the notes you ever wrote me too.
I can’t listen to “Ivy” anymore because it makes me think of you too much, or at least the stupid young ones that worked at the cafe.
I saw you started dying your hair again and you got the septum piercing you always wanted and they look really nice.
Remember those walks we’d have through the rose garden outside our building? Do you still have that green sweater?
I’m scared I’ll never stop seeing shades of you in every girl I meet, but that’s life I guess.
I’m so much better now but I don’t know if I can ever face you again.
Sometimes I wonder what I would even do if I saw you, even just a passing glance through a window.