And If I

We had the good things then but those just never seem to last.
Oh please, just--last. 

Please just last. So many people and places I'd like to say that to. This one now? Not quite. I will just shut it off, that sink, off, until a month. Less than a month and I'll be gone? I can hardly believe it. I loved it here, so what changed? I remember smiling so big and saying, "Yes, yes, it's so nice!" Now I can only mumble, "Yeah, it's all right." What changed? Happiness just isn't my shade, but it's all right. I'd like to stop talking about myself. I'd like to be quiet and to care very deeply. That's what I cling to in the times when I have absolutely nobody--to myself. It's the last shred of hope I have. I've lost my taste to care about a lot. Do I care? I guess I just like to shove it down there and not give it names. As soon as I do, as soon as I identify a face of the enemy, it all comes undone. It's better to just call them beasts, to be intensely unhappy and wildly poetic, to enjoy good music and sit alone in the sunshine.