the decembers

​i said to call me when you wanna be friends;
you haven’t called yet.

you move now 
like you never loved it,
you move now
like i never changed you.
you pack your bags now
for a temporary home,
you pack your bags now
like we don’t all know.
you moved to the heat
to the other end of earth,
you moved to play pretend,
what was it all worth?

enjoy your salad,
make a bet,
another girl,
another sweat.

i stopped caring a long time ago,
but you kept getting faded,
and making a show. 
my name stays in your mouth,
say, "cinnamon challenge"
choking, burning,
how will you manage?
you cry to our friends, 
smoking under the stars,
making house parties search parties,
does she know who you are?

i promised myself that last piece was the last,
but you continue your bullshit,
i continue my craft.
it’s getting old now,
it’s getting cold now,
december seems to work that way.
how many 1st of decembers til we forget?
the last time i wore this dress,
i was wrapped in your arms,
you were wrapped in my legs,
we fell asleep with the tv on.

how many rights make a wrong?

fresh skin took time,
but i work through the motions,
can't seem to skip a step,
complete devotion.
walked the tight-rope,
scaled the high-rise,
got up on over you,
sweet surprise.

you still run when i appear,
but now it’s different,
i’m indifferent,
you’re in limbo.

i said to call me when you wanna be friends,
but you vomit and spit invisible ink,
“i’m not over it”
so i wish you well,
like i always have.
still, 
an olive, a tree, a branch.