I took off the necklace that carried your
initial that I bought myself to let
others know I was yours,
and then took a shot of the liquor I had
in my passenger seat.
I flipped down the mirror and looked at
my fresh highlights that I got to try
to erase you from my head.
But I still feel lost on an island,
abandoned at a truck stop.
I’ve been fighting off the urge to call you,
and the urge to drink
and the urge to go off the rails.
I can’t stop thinking about how nice it must be
to be you today,
so happy and so certain with never seeing me again.
I’m still waiting on a morning where I wake up
and the first thing I want isn’t you.