It rained for three days
before you left.
I had people chatting me up
in bars and cafes
and I rejected them without realising
that I'd need them all
when you were gone
to help fill the void.
2 months on my own
is starting to take its tole;
I miss kissing with a *** in my hand
outside club doors
and running to catch a taxi
so you can take me home.
Now, I'm only smoking
to help me forget
the promises you made
every time you got out of my bed.
I'm making false friends
and pretending I'm cool
without you.                        
But nothing is the same
now that I heard you're with
girls who look nothing like me
and pretending that you're clean.
I'm the only one who could ever
see through you and
that ***** me up somehow,
just knowing there are people
around you
who dont have a clue what
or who you really are.
In my darkest moments I wish you could have stayed
instead of ******* off with art students
who wear costly vintage clothes.
Come round to my door and knock it down with your skinny legs,
I will fall right into your arms screaming:
"never leave, again."
I will pour my heart out,
just for you.
And I wonder if that makes me an angel or a fool?