You told me hold on to my faith

I went to your old street today where the trees hang like the memories I cannot bring myself to forget. Your lawn is unmowed and there are now cobwebs spinning on the corners of your porch that remind me of just how long you have really been gone for. There is a tattered "for sale" sign that has barely survived the fall and is just as in need of your mending as I seem to be at any given time.

Some people come in and out of this life without leaving so much as a second glance behind, but you couldn't have been one of those people because that would have made us too simple.
So now I see your street, the same one that I have driven so many times that the grooves and holes have grown familiar. I see the heavy door that I slammed when I swore I would never come back, the same door that I returned to every time that I gave in and found you waiting for me. 

You left yourself behind in more ways than I can count; trapped in the lyrics of songs you made me learn, in bits and pieces you left strewn in my car, in the parking lot you collected me from when I had all but convinced myself that this town would be better of without me.
It is easy to think of all the bad things that happened to us, but what isn't so obvious to the unknowing eye is the continuing impact you have on my life, the changes you caused me to make and the person you have led me to become.

I hate when people leave this place, because I know better than anyone that there is nothing here to come back for. But then you call me on the coldest nights; in the loneliest of times; during those fragmented moments when I lose my way and you tell me that I am enough, that I have always given you something to come back to here and it doesn't seem so bad anymore. You let me believe, even for a second, that this is bearable and that we can make this whole world work out with our hands tied behind our back. Even if it isn't true, even though sometimes this world is a place far more testing than we could begin to imagine, I love you with every damn scrap I've got for letting me believe that everything is going to be just fine, even just for those few seconds.