I'll never forget the night you slammed the door.
It was the same night you grabbed my face and screamed my name.
I'll never forget that night you drove to my apartment drunk,
then told me later it was a lie.
I'll never forget the night in the park.
The night you screamed at me for getting high,
screamed at me for cheating while high.
The night I found out you went through my phone,
while I slept quietly in your bed, four months ago.

Here we are now.
I'm clean,
except for the occasional *******.
That's my secret.
You're drunk,
more often than I'd like you to be.
So what's your secret?

So do I slam doors?
Should I grab your face and scream your name?
Do I take you to the park in the middle of the night?

Unfortunately, no.
I'm the only one who makes mistakes here.

I think about your bare skin,
carresed by the sheets.
I think about your touch,
is it rough? Is it kind?
I think about how you sleep at night,
with someone in your bed.
Do you bite the lip of the person kissing you?
Did their breathing change?
How does your hair smell?
Maybe it smells like rain.

Thoughts of you haunt.
Thoughts of you touching the person I love.

I'm ****** up.
I'm drunk right now.
Isn't it hilarious?
The last time I was like this was two months ago.
Two months ago when I lost my "best" ******* friend.
Make it stop.
Save me from this stupid thing called love.
I'm incapable of true love.
Is it because of him, her, you, me?
I ask like it matters.
I ask like it ever mattered.
Ha, good one...
******* HOLD ME.
Don't touch me.
Come back to me.
Never leave.
She's gone.
It's my fault too.
Who cares though?
I don't because, well, I'm a ******* mess.
I feel nothing.
Nothing at all.
I don't exist.
I'm not dead.
I'm just nothingness.
I'm nothingness wishing for a drip.
An IV drip.
Drip from the Molly.
The drip from the X.
Numbness from the narcotics.
Kiss me.
Leave me.
I'll rock your world.
Then ask you to go.
I'm saving you.
I promise.

He was cold,
and my blood was warm.
I was his first **** after a long winter.
He had my body pinned,
down in the snow bed,
and this was the end for me.
I would be his feast,
and no one else would ever have me.

One day, some day, soon.
She always told me,
one day, some day, soon.
We wrote scripts together.
We cried together.
We acted together.
She was my world,
and I was hers.
We never kissed.
We never wanted to.
This is no love story.
This is the story of a lost friendship.
Et tu, Clara?

This one will fight armies for me,
That one will play music for me,
Here is someone who will smile for me,

You will buy drinks for me. Occasionally.

I can't.

Right?

"You like me too much."
"You don't like me enough."
"That's not true..."

I want to end my life.
I don't think that many people would care.
I would be removing a problem.
Everyone's lives could go on without me.
That would probably be best.

Everything is terrible, and everybody *****.

"I wish to engage in many battles of the tongues with you, m'lady."

You finally figured it out.
I'm not someone you should love,
not someone you want to love.

"Don’t be dismayed by good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends."
Richard Bach -The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

What you ruined,
drink with me over it.

I've lost my mind.
Somewhere down the line.
Maybe I set it down to parachute the pill.
Maybe I set it down to light the grass.
Maybe I set it down to drink to the last drop.
Maybe I set it down to light the cancer.
Should I even pick it up?
It's probably covered in dust and filth.
Part of me is glad that it's gone.
Why would I trade a vice for a thought?

Part of me always wanted to fix it.
Part of me always wanted it to be you.
Then part of me always wondered what you were keeping me from.
I missed ragged breathing,
I missed drunken binges,
I missed feeling alive.
Now all I seem to miss is you.

Do you miss me?
Do you miss me staring at you?
Do you miss telling me to stop?
Do you miss me admiring you playing your games?
All of them
Every last one of them
You mesmerized me
You do still do
I love you
So desperately
and you...
What am I?
An afterthought?
Barely formed
Without shape
I love you
You...
What?
You what?

Simple
but sickeningly sweet.