Letters to the past.

Old friend, 

I know we don't talk much, 
and it's not like me to back track to the past,
but it's this time of year when I think of you the most.

You were comfort. 
Like the sweatshirt you grab on the first chilly night of autumn.
It's broken in, and has holes and stains in spots that can't be removed.
But, it's happiness.
You're the perfect kind of fucked up that I'll never be able to throw away.

And you were there on those old autumn nights.
And even though you still send messages out of the blue that give me chills, 
instead of reaching for you lately, like that hoodie, 
I choose now to put you away.

I miss you dearly, darling, 
but wearing you only brings out the worst in me.

Sometimes, we need to discard of things that bring us back to the cold.
And I apologize.
I truly do.

But instead of thinking of me with a blackened heart,
remember me smiling riding shotgun, 
wearing the holes and stains you left. 

I hope you're well.
And I send my love for the last time.

xo, 
K.