Despite how it looks, I forget about you a lot,
I think I do, at least, I've gotten better this year.
This semester took me for a spin, I threw up everything,
but I threw out nothing, just tucked away our belongings,
they gather dust but they wouldn't burn so I kept them,
I've gotten better this year, I think I have at least
It's funny how in March I thought I was dying and
since then I've been using the same sheets because
they smell like you.


You are at the bottom of my cup,
you are residue I didn't finish up,
you are left behind,
bitter taste in my mouth,
you are what I complain about,
but I still make time every day,
to drink until I'm sick,
just to make sure you're still there,
and to feel just as pathethic