Mistakes made, but what good are promises kept if your bed is the only other one on which I've slept? Bearing the scars on our hearts which we wear like the gold time pieces which we are. All the while making up excuses, although they are much more of delusions; explanations of poor behavior. And I'm waking up with bead head, thoughts of you in these tangles. But there's the lingering one that I can't seem to remove. My name flows through the arteries of your chest. Your name ingrained onto my spine, that way I carry you wherever I go. Longing for the way your lips sound out my name, it's burning that spot right behind my rib cage. Maybe I'll take an antacid, but it doesn't seem to pass and, I think I've begun to accept that I will hear your name in every word heard. I've begun to accept that Ill breathe in your scent with every cigarette I smoke. Your taste on my tongue with every word spoken. I'm sorry I'm such a lush, but your name's got me just as drunk and I can't seem to remember what it's like to be touched by another's hand but yours.