It’s a dark, lonely night, and I am sitting on my bedroom floor
a bottle of stolen ***** on one side,
and the ghost of you on the other

I take another swig
and realize that maybe I spend so much time kissing the mouths of bottles now
because I know I can’t kiss yours anymore
maybe I like the way the liquid makes my insides burn
because it reminds me of how I felt whenever you touched me

I’ve been counting the days since you’ve left
and I’ve realized that maybe thats why I’ve been drinking so much
because every time I do it feels like for just a moment I can forget about you
I can forget about the way we promised each other the world
but could barely gather enough tinder to keep ourselves warm