That guitar case smells like his room, my coat smells like his smoke. He still has a picture of us framed on his dresser, and my hair bow clipped to his desk. Maybe that doesn't mean anything, maybe it does. A week ago I was fine, happy even, contented even and now I don't really know. I think though that if things were supposed to work out right now we would be working them out, and we would know that we absolutely can't live without the other and everything would be right. That's not the case, we keep fighting, changing our minds, blaming everything on confusion. Part of me still wants him, all of me wanted to lean over and kiss him on the porch today and stop arguing about everything, I just wanted it gone. I spent so long loving him, and I don't know how to stop and I don't know if I want to or not.
