You've been drinking like the world is going to end,
And I've been counting the freckles on your face
Connecting them to make pictures
or new constellations.
Your eyes look like the sky
At 6 pm in August
On a Friday evening.

When I'm asked to describe home,
I always almost say your name.
People expect me to say a **** place,
But I've felt more at home with you
Than I ever did in my own house.
And I'm always high
On heels, pills, *****, or in spirits
But you didn't even look at me the last time you said you loved me
And ****,
If that didn't feel like the end of the world