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it's a ghost town, but I wanted to call you and tell you about it anyway

are you even over me? how can you be, when everything reminds me of you? I hate to say it, but it's not fair that I want to come back here together, to this ghost town, cigarette butts older than both of us, and share the stillness. I don't know how I got here and I hope the directions on my phone get me home safe, even though I'd rather burn my battery talking to you instead. anyways, you won't get this message, you won't see this text, you won't pin this place on the map, and that's okay, just know that even this-a broken-down, empty, worn-out, rusted, dry dry dry, old midwestern town, made me think of you.
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