You said you were in love with me
but I wasn't your first.

My burning fingertips ran rampant
on your battle-struck armour
I engraved your scars in my memory
so I could forget my own wars.

Steaming whispers of wine and cigarettes
told me I was special
as you welded yourself on to my skin -
But was it really me that you wanted?

Was I the name your mind whispered
when you poured yourself another drink?
Was I the one that made you feel
fulfilled?

Your mind was a pirate ship
And she was your storm -
She was aching bones and bleeding hearts
and I was nothing more
than a paper cut.

That raging tempest left you blind
and you failed to notice
how I had met a hurricane
whose torrent smelt like gin.

She stole the wind from my sails
and left fault lines in my rib cage
Her lying kisses are still emblazoned
on this ashen skin you caress.

I said I was in love with you,
but you weren't mine either.