You drank yourself away to somewhere new,

somewhere you thought would be better.

But every night, you just cried 

and cried 

and cried

until you drowned in your own tears.

The girl I loved is dead and gone,

she went away on the first sip after sobriety.

I want to bury the corpse, 

but don’t have the strength to hold the shovel.

Your ghostly figure, empty eyes, emotionless smile

let me know you’re here,

but you are not really you.

Every time I go to speak to you, 

while you float in and out of my room,

back and forth in my mind,

constant wailing reminds me

you are not really alive

you are not really here

you are not and, will never be again,

yourself.

When will this nightmare end?