I'm going through withdrawals. In the loneliness, creeping closer, how I feel you forgetting my face and my words and the way my love tasted. It leaves me shaking because they said I could do better and I've felt more alone than I ever felt with you, they told me I could do better and they think I'm fine because you're out of my system but I still feel you drifting through my life. I hear your voice in mundane words, I fold myself up trying to resist you because I can do better even though you're the best I've had and you're happy without me so who really won here? Am I happy filled with alcohol or any other drug? No. And you told me I wouldn't be. You were my sanity and you've moved on because I told you to but why would you listen to an addict? Why was I so easy to let go of? And I've avoided looking at you because you're so familiar to me and there's so much more to you than what I told people because I wanted the happiness to myself but I took my rage and ripped through you. I am the the artist of the masterpiece I've self entitled Destruction. I loved you like the needle vibrating my collarbone - my bones want to collapse on themselves and I fold myself up trying to keep it together wishing I could have even just the smallest of hits. I would never let you reject me again but when I want to **** myself you were my IV though people thought you were the pills. It never mattered how many times I said I loved you, because why would you listen to an addict?
Painting with memories.