Remember when I mattered? When you mattered? (Truth is, you still do and always will matter to me) When we mattered?
Now I pick away at my brain matter hoping all the memories will scatter like the ashes of a dying fire.
This isn't the 4th of July and we aren't roasting marshmallows or counting the stars in the sky but I'll take a cigarette to hold off sleep for a little longer.
I would rather flood my bloodstream with nicotine than the thick smoke at the campground and I'm afraid to find you in my dreams once again, because it's starting to take a hold of me and I'm starting to lose hold of reality.
I wanted to read a good book but decided to write one instead and I'm desperately looking for a publisher but who wants to print a story where the words have no meaning?
I'm just a bunch of random thoughts that never fit together like a puzzle missing a few pieces and my lungs are starting to collapse and I'm worried my internal organs are going to fall into a recession.
The numbers don't look good and neither does my BAC as I swallow your words and wash them down with shot after shot of cheap Vodka laced with my insecurities and past mistakes.
Your presence was making itself corrosive to my sanity and self-image so we decided it was better to part ways and I took the Polaroid of our first date and flooded it with gasoline and set it alight.
Our hands melted together then bled like candle wax and I watched us drown into a pool of what was, what could of been, and what never will be again.