I've pricked my finger once or twice sewing your name on the hems of garments
Spoke of you like religion
Bells tied around wrist
Love at my alter
You don't see God but you're still a believer

Everything smells differently in the rain
Mostly you on my skin
Loosely running down my fingertips
Between all ten toes

Detoxing

Breaking from you
Silently

I took a gold sharpie
Wrote your name on sidewalks
Bathroom walls
The sides of my shoes
The palm of my hands
I wrote your name everywhere

On everything  

So I can ignore how lonely I was

I don't think I'm built for this
Life
It has seem to remind me of how small I am
Between anxiety pills and tequila I've stared at reflections on walls and still haven't heard the answer to me being alone
Am I really that much where my lover's name had turned to ash on my tongue and he his hate stings my belly with guilt
What is this, life, when you have to gamble with your time and turn to strangers for absent love that makes you to repent to the Lord?
Is there any forgiveness for someone like me that can't make out warnings of my own destruction or understand that I'm drowning in my own tears?
I don't think I'm built for life
Hurry the blueprint might still be legible.