where the roads don't go

13 - dear

this is not the longest story

because you were turning eighteen

and i cannot fit in a suitcase

no matter how hard i try

sometimes, when i'm lonely

i can feel that touch that lingered

in the space between my shoulder blades

when you were by my side

i can almost see you now

you're holding that umbrella

it's a funny shade of orange

but it never suited you

i can almost hear your heartbeat

i still wear it on a chain

and i can hear the way you mumbled

when you said you loved me too

i bought you a ceramic mug

the day of your eighteenth birthday

and i filled it with apologies

you never asked me why

and i know you're not a liar

but you were turing eighteen

and i cannot fit in a suitcase

no matter how hard i try