The Season of the Sticks

as you promised me

i was more than all the miles combined
you must have had yourself a change of heart like
halfway through the drive
cuz your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign
you kept on driving straight

you left our future to the right

now I am stuck between my anger

and the blame that I just can’t face

and memories are something

even smoking weed does not replace
and i am terrified of weather

because I see you when it rains
my mother told me to travel,

but there’s sickness on the planes

and i love chicago,

but it’s the season of the sticks
and i saw your mom–

she forgot that I existed
and it’s half my fault

but I just like to play the victim.

i’ll drink alcohol until my friends come home for christmas

and i’ll dream each night of some version of you
that I might not have–

but I did not lose

now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes
and I’m split in half, but that’ll have to do

so i thought that if i piled something good on all my bad
that I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from my dad
no i am no longer funny

because you  miss the way i laugh
you once called me forever,

but now you still can’t call me back

my other half was you

i hope this pain’s just passing through
but I doubt it–

it’s just the season of the lonely witch.