nineteen march
two : oh-five p.m.

been thinking about you too much today. and it took me a while to figure out why.

it's been a year. and you live in a different house and a different life and i don't know the address. i imagine there's no big white number five on the garage and no moon shining on your bed at night and no walk-in closet overflowing with sentimentality and dirty laundry. no neighbors who asked you to speak at their baby's funeral.

i wonder if you even realize.