Scrolling my phone mindlessly
breezing past a selfie from someone in a bar
on the windowsills I used to sit...
I don't necessarily miss it;
but there's melancholy for the memories,
the smell of cigarettes on my fingertips,
and ***** soaking my worries...
tonight it feels like that could be nice,
cause I haven't been able to sleep for days...
been having nightmares every time I do;
and everything I write just feels redundant
but I've got so much I wanna say...
summer makes me feel more lonely
than when I'm under winter skies,
got so many parts of myself I don't recognize...
but every street has a memory,
and I'm just trying to move on
where bartenders once memorized my drinks,
they now probably wouldn't remember my name....
quit smoking **** in the spring
I'm spending money recklessly
******* myself over royally
I just wanna feel something good