I hadn't heard from you in a while, so last night I humored the notion of you, intrigued.
You asked me how I was, high off your *** on Vicodin.
Drunk off my *** on red wine, I admitted I wasn't doing
So well.

So, well,
We spoke for a while, and I admitted a lot of
****.

Well, ****.
More than you bargained for,
I'm sure.

So sure,
You called me out on my mistakes like you always have:
Telling me that I was far too lovely,
To be so ******* lonely
That I would waste such a beautiful side of myself,
In so willingly giving so much of myself
Away.


And in a way,
I know that you're
right;

And I can't just pretend I'm
alright.

I need to buck up and make all things
right.

Holy ****, what a night.