please don’t leave me.
you swing your legs, sitting on the high branch of the elm tree
we used to climb it a lot after school, when we were eleven.
are you saying you’d miss me? you teased.
yes, fucking yes, i would.
you pull some leaves off and throw them at me.
i love you, but i’m not going to like you if you leave.
you’re such a hypocrite, you laugh.
you stare at me in your rope necklace, looped around my favorite branch.