It's every time i hear "baby" spilling off lips that aren't his, every time i kiss someone, and it tastes like talking in tongues, because it isn't him. Every time it rains, every window sill, it's delicate, every cigarette, every time I think I see his face, every place, that he loved me. It's every song by catfish and the bottlemen, every metal cover band, every drive, every minivan. It's every beach we never went to, every time the sunset feels warmer in my heart than on my skin. Every time their hands slide down my waist they don't waste their time like he did. Every sip of liquor on my lips, every drug every daze. Every May June July August, every haze. Every word, every bird that sounds like waking up in the morning with him. Every street we made ours at night, every firefly. Every time I pretend spilling ink on a page spelling love as his name will help me bleed him out. Every time I bleed myself dry. Every time I should let go but I don't even try, to. Every time before he left; before I loved him. Every cloudy, overcast seven AM. Everything that reminds me of lust, and love and *** and sin,
Everything that reminds me of him.