the hardest part was realizing I still loved you. I spent months washing you out with bottles of whisky and could still taste your chapstick on my tongue. somehow the burning in my throat wasn't the liquor but it was your name reaching for a way out. maybe it came from the way that I noticed your socks weren't matching and your eyes were dark with circles again. it never made sense to me, you never made sense to me. I could go days without a smoke but the second I heard your name I was half way through a dart that smelt just like you. no matter how many packs I bought each smelled more and more like you than the last, the sweet pine you carried so god damn well. I tried sleeping with my socks on but couldn't bare it. you couldn't stand your socks on. I couldn't stand to fucking breathe because it kept reminding me of the soft hum that leaves your chest when you're asleep. you were my second love but my first real love and I can't get away from you. you're in every fucking light bulb and coffee mug, how am I supposed to move on when you won't let me stop loving you in the first place? I've found you in every new lover I've tried out and maybe that's why each night is more lonely than the last. you have her open legs and I have an open casket but we always knew you had a thing for a quick fix.