I've done my best to suppress the thoughts of and yearn for you.
Drinking only released my thoughts aloud to you and the world too.
I even tried to smoke it off, I tried to turn my high's into final goodbyes.
I swore another lover's lips would make my unresolved feelings die.
But not another's bed could mold two bodies as perfectly as yours did.
Sure any pair of hands and lips could please, and sure it'd feel like you if I closed my eyelids.
But drink after drink, high after high, and lover to lover, nothing changed.
Unless we can count the loss of my self respect, the love for my being isn't the same.
I swear to the false image of a god that I wished nothing but the best for you.
Yet I never thought I'd see you more content than me in the things you do.
I spend every day with a mask on to hide the hollowness and sorrow.
It's been months and months attempting to move on from this, but you're one tough act to follow.
I sit at home and ponder on where my life has fallen since you've been gone.
Through my facade, my misery was inevitably prolonged.