i'm sitting where i'll sit when you leave, by a tree you've never noticed on grass you may have set foot on, but not with me (so it shouldn't have anything to do with you but it does.) and i guess this is some sort of pathetic prequel to Absence instead of the cheered toast it ought to be, and normally i'm at my least selfish around you but that hasn't mattered much lately.
i've been thinking a lot about what it even means to move on and how maybe that's best.
but i have things with you i don't have with any other person, and ever since you read my words i only want to give you more.
