I went to a wedding last Saturday,
and I drank cheap tequila at the open bar
until I couldn't quite remember my name.
The bride's family called me a mess,
and I laughed because you said the exact same thing
when you walked out the door of my apartment for the last time.
From what I remember,
the ceremony was beautifully
arranged with accents of gold and ivory
and I cried as the vows were read,
not because I thought that they were especially poetic,
but because somewhere at the bottom of my purse,
I have a crumpled restaurant napkin
with the vows I wrote for you while we were tipsy on date night.
You see,
I look for parts of you in everything,
and I think that's my biggest problem.
I am destroying myself in an attempt to hold onto you.
Maybe if I become less of a mess,
you'll come back to me.
But for now,
I'll continue to get drunk at open bars
in an attempt to forget about the girl
that had her heart broken by her forever.
I have never been the best at letting go