For a
moment

I thought I (love)d you.

It's a tough word, it really is,
when you're sobbing behind a bottle,
bleeding red wine from the corners of your mouth.
It would be simpler to express this sober,
but you know as well as anyone
no one's ever sober anymore.

The inebriates are saying "happy ******* Valentine's Day"
to everyone who decided to break the glass the past year.
The antidepressants are speeding up my heart beat,
praying that this time it'll be my name you're crying about.

Even if it's for the wrong reason.