read between the sloppy lines
of drunk texts and high poems
scrawled upon pages of telephone books
in black bold letters, black slippery ink

i remember the days when you were mine
loved the ***, loved the roses
all your side-long glances and pretty looks
but without you i have gotten better,
in deaths quick sands i no longer sink

i miss you, honey,
but we'll never love again
when pages turn and our story ends,
read between the lines of my drunk texts,
and you will find me.