I use the term I miss you as loosely as the string I tie around my index finger so that l don't forget to never use that phrase again.
Because I miss the person who came with Decembers wind chill not the person who left in June's volcanic ash.
Sometimes I wonder if you can feel the ache when you press ******* to where your pulse should be but then I remember that you're most definitely cold blooded.
And you can't feel unless you fake it.
And I most likely never really mattered like an animal in a cage.
But I could've sworn that you felt it. The pain before the punch hits.
And the pleasure of me screaming through the lies and the regret.
I know I'd listen to your answering machine a million times if your voice could make my ears clean again.
But I am not your scapegoat
Do you even remember?
I think you don't because you would've cared more
And you would've been there when I needed you but instead you're stuck upside down.
In a car that should've killed you.