it's mine. though it's not tangible, it belongs to me. and you and your girlfriend, a face (under that tangle of hair) i vaguely feel warmth towards, you and your girlfriend can go listen to anything else you want. make love to anything that moves you. dance to our old song at your fucking wedding. shit, i don't care.
but that,
that's mine. not your's. not mine and your's.
just mine mine mine.
and you know it.
you know it and you know that every time you listen to it, you're going to think of me. and i hope sometimes you slip up and say my name when listening to it. i hope she doesn't notice because we all know what a drunk she is. but you do, you notice, and it fucking drives you insane.
but that's what you get for becoming everything i ever was.
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