I envy the cigarettes that kiss you goodnight,
And the fine white lines that make you feel alright.
I’m jealous of the whiskey that brings warmth to your skin,
And of your one off companions; tangled limbs in linens.
You tell me you’re prisoner to your fire within,
that you’re being tortured alive from your self inflicted sin.
You’re broken and bruised and turn to your vices
and build up a shelter in your self made crisis
And tell me it’s better that I walk away...
But my drug is you... and I have to stay.
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 2:08 AM UTC
I envy the cigarettes that kiss you goodnight,
And the fine white lines that make you feel alright.
I’m jealous of the whiskey that brings warmth to your skin,
And of your one off companions; tangled limbs in linens.
You tell me you’re prisoner to your fire within,
that you’re being tortured alive from your self inflicted sin.
You’re broken and bruised and turn to your vices
and build up a shelter in your self made crisis
And tell me it’s better that I walk away...
But my drug is you... and I have to stay.