i could blame it all on you. (even though it's no one's fault but my own.) and i do sometimes. on sunny days and when everything seems green. when i'm driving on overpasses and walking past white picket fences. when david gilmour's voice comes on the radio over a lonely acoustic guitar and seven times out of ten i change the channel. you taught me to love that song. (it's ironic how perfect the lyrics are now.) i think about you every day. and of how things could have been different if you stayed. of how i never really knew who you were. but it was because i never got the chance, i tell myself. (but i know and you know that's not true.) maybe you should have told me. (maybe i should have asked.) sometimes the only solace i can find is the fact that i've convinced myself that you hurt others much more than you could ever hurt me. (but there's no way of knowing that for sure, is there?)

someone else sat in the seat next to mine. (but i could still see your silhouette.)