Jul 2014
I am wasted on the idea of affection.
Of it I drink daily.
I sip and I sip
until my swollen heart aches in its lonely abiss
Many wonder why I weep so often.
But you could never know the pain of a hangover with a soul as drunk as mine.
Of it I drink daily.
I sip and I sip
until my swollen heart aches in its lonely abiss
Many wonder why I weep so often.
But you could never know the pain of a hangover with a soul as drunk as mine.
Besides the half-glass I've poured this evening, I don't drink alcohol.
