I held you as you slept
and I knew.

Was it three years?
Or just two? The nine month break
must be counted too.

God I love you,
it's an illness. God,
I really ******* love you.

But I knew,
I kissed you hard
but it just didn't taste the same.

It just didn't burn the same.
For once I feel like
friends would make more sense.

It's emptiness,
it's the first time hopeless
since I was sixteen.

Nineteen now
and I still love you,
but it just doesn't taste the same.