Why do I always
Write in this state
of mind? All I
can think about is
your breathing and the
way you smell. I'm
in this **** attic
alone, my eyes are
wet and my hands
are shaking. I want
nothing more than for
you to be here
holding me. I want
to be in your
arms so ******* badly
but you're at home
sound asleep and I'm
here with a bottle
of liquor and a
sour taste on my
tongue that I can't
place. I know this is
your fault.Your eyes,
your lips, your fingers,
brushing, whispering.
Why are you not
here with me? Why
are you not touching
my skin, or kissing
the tips of my
fingers? Why am I
alone in this *******
attic with this unrecognizable
sour taste in my
mouth?