No matter how many lights you turn off she still ain't me.
You can use the same names
Dedicate the same songs
retrace the same routine
you’ll still look at her looking for traces of me,
I'm no longer yours but your heart doesn't understand the process of letting go of true love so to your heart I'm still home.
When you drink uncontrollably I'm the reason & my phone ringing is the outcome
Of course ill answer I’ll let you yell until you realize this is the choice you made yourself thinking of yourself loving selfishly.
Yes, I'm your shot of patron whiskey & your bottle of vodka but I was in love too.

I pour a couple.

You swear I wrecked you in the same breath you say I saved you your still jealous of others looking to pursue what you abandoned

What do you want?

I still feel your screams I still sense your cries my soul still connects with you, baby.
You’re my hearts addiction you destroy me, I deepen your void. Toxic.
And No matter how many times I turn off the lights there moans don't replace you. Their sex doesn’t replace what my deep requires -- my desire for depth in conversation outweighs most people’s ability to ever offer such. Substance is all I ask for and I’ll never settle. I’ll never stop answering for you. I’ll never stop stumbling in after hours because, love. Bitter dark love. Question me honey, question us, I do it often -- In what form is this love.

 But that's what happens when you fall in love with a writer, “we’ll convince you drowning is just as beautiful as breathing air, don’t listen. We'll make you fall into a bottomless chasm of intellectual lust. Mind fucking lead into orgasms. Legs will tremble untouched. All cravings amplify. Everything becomes you. A slight obsession for a muse, a desire to ‘feel’ love/d”

We drain you. You’ll feel empty after we leave but we carry you. In everything. I carry you. In every sip.