Love and it's relatives

Vingt huit

You are the words that grace my book
When I try to write about crappy love.

I hope you still write about me.

Highlight how my presence intoxicated you.

Paint your book with the love I poured out from the depths of my soul.

Showcase the artifacts we call memories that seem to tag along with every step I take.

I hope your poem explains why you left without so much as a good bye.

I hope it answers all my questions.