he would find me.

overflowing with memory and conspicuous sorrow, i'll sit here one more hour and try my hardest to let it soak in.

because nights like these make me remember when the promise ring was good, and we had just come home from the samiam show, flipping payphones off the hook all the way up commonwealth avenue.

the trains had stopped running, but we stayed in the central square station for an hour anyway, jumping off of benches and dodging security.

remember when i ran out of park street station, angry and lonely, but you came running after me, telling me that you didn't mean it, following me as i walked down boylston?

remember when you found me at the bar, four in the afternoon, chugging my drink and looking like the worst version of me because i was supposed to be in class but something in my eyes told you to hold my hand instead of harping on the subject?

remember when i skipped out at three in the morning and walked the two and a half miles back to my small dorm room but you pulled a john cusack and kept screaming my name from the sidewalk?

remember that early morning, walking to packard's corner, hand in hand, scared and shaking, but you sat with me for hours in the waiting room because you were scared too?

nights like these, i remember when there was someone there to run after me, talking sense into my no-no-no-i-have-to-run philosophy, loving me despite, knowing it was just a matter of short time, putting on the promise ring (when they were good) and finding so much patience to deal with a girl who could be so maddening. nights like these, when i turn around, no one's there.

another night. another discarded pack. another empty glass. another scar to run my fingers over.