It's 1:43 a.m. on a Monday, a week ago at this time exactly I was in your arms.
I understand.
A love like no other, destined to end, an elixir we cheered to the moon with seeps down our smoke burned throats; my life forever changed from that night on. A burden most heavy lay upon my chest at night, like a dog to it's bed, it lays there throwing its exhaustion of self-hatred and loneliness in my face. The thought most rejected and welcomed, a bottle rocket in the night sky, you are the feeling of picking the right answer. You are the feeling of drawing the short stick. Your words bouncing around in my head like noisy upstairs neighbors unwilling to settle down, causing this emotional insomnia. So I'll pour a drink to have a dream, but I know ill see you there.