A mind a drift, lost in madness
by the sound of your cries,
oh how I long for your return; but all I hear is goodbye,
your lust has long a passed me and its
driving me to cry.
How I long for your sighs and your lies.
I sit here, hear, drunk, yelling out
how its gone: the taste of your waist and by God,
the heat from your chest
was the best. You never let me rest, jumping
and clawing, till their was blood on my back.
Your lipstick on my chest.
And your gone.
And I'm back to this drink.