Venice Bitch, Lana Del Rey


It was 16th of December, 4:00 in the afternoon when you decided to bring me home.
Nostalgic song playing in your car, neither one of us speak.
I knew it’s our lasts. Our last ride together, last afternoon together, last moment listening to a song together.
I knew it would be the last time I get to stare at you while your eyes are fixed on the road. I watched you obscure your emotions, so at least, I have your image in the back of my memory even if I delete all your photos.
I tried to sniff as much of you and your car’s scent as I could, at least, I could remember it even when I don’t get to lean on your arms again. I recorded the music playing that moment, at least, I can listen to it on repeat when I’m alone.
I counted how long it took you to send me home.
I learned that minutes can entirely wreck you, and provide you weight to carry for years.

Back to my town, I opened the door cause you didn’t mind doing it for me.
I could not say goodbye, or stare at you like how I always do. None a single word came out of your mouth, all I could hear was engine won’t decide to stop.
Neither you did look at me. Three steps away; I walked, I heard you leave without hesitation. I knew it was the last time someone would bring me home. And if one more time, new person will do the same; it won’t replace how I felt when it was you doing it.

That December afternoon was supposed to be happy, never have I thought it would end not the way I envisioned it earlier that day when I woke up. But what we had are over now.
Even if I wait, you’ll never mind reaching out to me and telling me that we’ve made the wrong choice again.

I could’ve brought Roses to my town when you sent me back there. Deep blue was the color of dusk when I walk the path going home, while somehow, wondering about the paths we didn’t take.
Butterflies had broken wings, trying to find life on the thorny vines intertwined all over me.


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