When you left me you said you didn't love me,
I was heartbroken...
Though now I discovered,
I didn't love you either.
So here's to the circles we chased that year,
And all the times I called you dear.
Merry Christmas,
Happy Hanukkah,
Whatever you celebrate these days.
Here's to times I'll never forget,
With a person whose words slip my mind.
Just as easily as
"Wait don't leave"
Left my mouth.

Today I am but a shadow of the man I used to be,
the man I was before your fingers grazed my cheek.
Though I'm moving forward,
and my shadow is behind me.
I can say that I'm happy.

The memories could've been amazing,
But you're just ******* coward.

These days my lips are pressed against the rim of a shot glass,
and a burning sensation is lingering in my throat...
So that the memories of you aren't pressing in my head,
and a searing fire isn't usurping my heart.

As I get home I find myself excited to talk to you,
as we talk I find myself laughing at your ****** puns.
I ponder as to why I'm laughing.
I don't laugh at anyone else's horrid punchlines.
I don't see why I would.
and then it hits,
like a freight train slammed into my chest,
I'm left breathless and frazzled.
I'm falling to my knees in shock,
and falling in love again...
and I tell myself to stop.
But you see,
that's the thing..
I can't stop the feelings,
Just as  I cannot conjure or force them.
That's the thing with our emotions,
we don't invoke them.
They invoke themselves

People often describe memories that are haunting, and I have plenty of those.
Though the haunting doesn't bother me as far as ghosts.
The feeling of being haunted comes in waves,
though the ghost follows you around.
My past love is a ghost,
fueled by an ever so familiar beating heart.
So familiar for it is myocardium.
When you left, you still had my heart.
These days I run on alcohol, cigarettes, and compliments from lasses I could never love.
Never love until I **** the ghost of my past love.
Though you can't **** a creature spawned from the undead.

My love for you was Russian Roulette,
The choice of gun was a Revolver.
Each chamber was to a month,
with a bullet set in the sixth.
I gripped the handle,
and aimed toward my leg,
though instead of nervous during the journey,
I grew comfortable...
Yet When our sixth month came.
You took the gun from my hands and aimed it at my heart.
You didn't take any hesitate to pull the trigger,
then you disappeared as I bleed on the ground.
It's been ages.
Though i'm still left in shreds,
now it's 5:46 in the morning and i'm still grieving,
even though it's been ages since our game.
I guess i'm a sore loser.
My heart is gone and it's an empty hollow,
My choice of a filler is ***** and cigarettes,
Mother wasn't lying when she said first loves tear you apart.