You still have my books

I made myself an extra in your story only to get smaller and smaller as you walked away and the camera stayed fixed on you.

You screamed at me to go away and I did and I never saw you. I said I wouldn't talk to you till you reached out, and you decided to leave it.

I remember the night no one knew where you were, I was lying in bed in my jeans, I put on my boots so fast and left. I didn't even a shirt on, I just drove till I felt crazy for even trying.

I saved you a painting of an owl my grandma was throwing away, it leaned against the bookshelf by my bed and stared at me for weeks. I finally moved it tonight.

You still have my books, I'd like them back. But I'd really just like to know that you're okay and happy. Really hope so.