you used to always call me your innocent girl,
one to never break out of her shell.
never once taking a sip of alcohol, or touching the blunts you would roll with your best friend.
you used it against me when you left me hanging in the rain.
i did drugs today.
i downed the fifth of whiskey my roommate kept under her bed.
i smoke one of those blunts you swore i'd never touch, or two.
i tried to send every memory you gave me up in smoke.
i tried to forget how you left me, alone and vulnerable
and how my heart was almost ripped in half.
i threw myself into a substance-induced oblivion to where i couldn't even move without falling right back down
into the deep dark hole that you shoved me into.
and even though i should have forgotten all about how you're brown eyes tore right into mine, or the way you called me 'baby'
i couldn't.
i couldn't stop hearing the sound of your voice.
or see the rugged glimmer of your smile.
or taste the black coffee what was always on your lips
i couldn't erase your memory,
even though you didn't even remember mine