I've filled the hole you left with empty kisses from boys whose lips taste like ash trays and whose bodies aren't yours but fill the space you left in my bed anyway
I've filled it with smoke as I sat on the edge of a bathtub, bowl in hand listening to a stranger talk about how he still calls his dead mother by mistake sometimes
I've filled it with recipes of sleeping pills swallowed down with cough syrup and vodka and chased with a flat Diet Coke I might've opened last week
The you shaped hole in my chest just gets bigger