Not even all the ***** in the world could numb the pain that your words caused. All the drugs that consumed me, still couldn't consume the essence of your skin that lingered on my clothing. Because the moment I looked at my hands and yours weren't there interlocked with mine, the memories came flooding back, shot after shot. The ***** burned my throat as it traveled down, but the pain was worth the attempt of forgetting you and the heartache you caused me, even if only for a moment.

Because I would do anything to not feel the pain, every second of every day. Until the day after comes, and I'm hungover in bed thinking about what way I'm going to drown the memory of you, when in fact

              There is no way.

There is no way to forget your lips traveling down my body. Maybe I like to be in that state of mind because in my perfect world you're mine and I'm yours. But every shot reminds me I'm not yours and that you don't care to be mine. "This one is for the day your lips met my neck." "This one is for the day you said you'd never leave." But where are you now?

Not even with all the ***** in the world, will I ever be "ok" again. I'm not me, I'm just the mess you've created. I'm sorry for the mess you made me.


T.S