It is bittersweet.
I miss taking you to eat
and I miss rubbing on your feet.
I miss having someone to trust
and to be vulnerable with and to lust
You'd eat my broccoli and I'd eat your crust.
I'd share my Netflix and you know the rest
Remember every argument.
Remember every mistake I made,
and every mistake you made.
I remember the last week.
The last month. The last thing to say.
Remember the last time I left your driveway.
I remember the hateful accusations
as well as your soft and flowery smell.
I'd wish you the best..
I'm sure you'd say go to Hell.