They Can't See This Vacancy

Hi. How could I forget you? Your face. It's so beautiful. I remember when I used to love looking at it. But. I was wondering. If maybe, just maybe you'd go away now. Please?

'Cuz I'm tired.
So,
so,
tired.

Of cleaning up after the mess you left behind. In my mind, in my heart, in my soul. And even in the small of my back. I'm tired of drowning out your voice in the morning with Wale on the Ipod, and I'm especially tired of hearing whispers of what coulda, woulda, shoulda from your side of the bed at night.

I wish I could sweep away every memory in my brain of you. So that I could forget how I wound up in your arms anyway. Then, maybe I'd stop retracing my steps back there. I would appreciate it if you returned the favor and forgot my name, number, and address to my heart as well. Because it's just not fair anymore.

How you're everything to me. When I'm nothing to you at all.

When you're everywhere. And I'm not even a scent on your pillow, a reflection in your mirror, or a taste on the tip of your tongue. I try to hate you, I want to forget you, but I miss you instead.

So please, just go away. Grab your stuff and leave. Because I'm tired of picking up my phone to dial your number after something good happens to me. I'm tired of seeing jackets and shirts and sweaters that I want to buy 'cuz they'd look so good on you. And I'm tired of laying with him ... then rolling over and wondering how you are, what you're doing, and if you still think of me.

Here, I'll even help you pack. I just hope this box is big enough for all the shit you left behind.