There's a gaslamp on a sidestreet, it's ugly and unromantic. The owners still light it every night. Painted flames in a rainstorm. Reminds me of something that you would have once loved, or kept under your skin. Pieces to keep track of. Did you keep track of me? I put your nerves there on my doorstep, didn't need them anymore. I had wrapped them all in paper and had kept them in my drawer. Assumed that you'd be back for them but didn't hear your voice for weeks. Did you ever think of me? What else was in your system, when you chose to leave?