and when you leave, and you will, don't do it quietly.
not silently, like a ghost who never really was there, slipping out the window in the middle of the night.
when you leave, do it with a scream, a loud echo bouncing across the states
when you leave, slam the door in my face, toss the dishes on the floor and break the memories.
when you leave, throw away your key, no in and out, coming and going, for you and me
don't leave me wondering what i couldn't see



















