The World Already Ended

You claimed that your mother was a gypsy while you were young. You told me stories from your adventures with her and offered up the fears instilled within you by your father. You let me know more about you than anyone else ever would. Then you left without any sort of warning. At least I know where you got that from. I love those gypsy ties of yours. And it's comforting to think that you won't be back, prepared to deepen these elaborate cuts decorating my soul.