Comment 1


You like to find excuses for why you’re fucked up
say you’re an alternative soul
who was tortured in her bed
every time she lied with him under sheets
now images retract in your heavy head

now you’re too weak to consume another’s taste
unless it’s dry to the bone
passing around your sins
watching things go untold

down the hallway I observe your swollen stare
as you toast to an empty bottle
with an even emptier laugh
you swear up and down
deep inside you truly care

with copper on your lips
you force others to swallow
thinking it’s love down in that bottle

now you drag their limp body
on your cut up tile floor
the smell of relit cigarettes pasted on your face
while you spread their innocence across the bathroom stall
insisting it’s nothing new
swearing one day you’ll repent for all these sins
but only after her demons are done playing in your bed

acting like their savior
while you slowly tear them in two
knowing those poor girls won’t be forgiven
unless they can pay for your lies too
so you’ll wake to find them
trying to drown in your bathroom sink
just to prove they’ll bleed out for you

and you’ll like the way their hair smells like your smoke
and how your towels are finally stained with someone else’s ink
and you’ll write me
so I’ll write about you
and I’ll cut you off
so these shallow lines are yours to keep.


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