You were never mine

When the alcohol makes you miss me

I imagine one day you'll get drunk. The alcohol will bring back memories of me. 

 I'd come to you and stay with you through it all like I've done so many times before. Maybe you'll miss me too much. But too prideful to say. Your friends might call me to come take care of you. And I will come. I will always come for you. And I'll find you drunk and half-way passed out. I'll lecture your friends for doing you so. 

But then I'll take you to your room, lay you down and tuck you in. Right beside you, I'll have the trash can ready and a water bottle. I'll sit on the ground or pull up a chair beside you. If you ask me to lay down with you, I won't. I hope to god that I have the strength to say no. I can't. I shouldn't. You're the one that ended things. I have to keep my distance. 

But I'll stay until you fall asleep. I'll hold your hand. Make sure you're okay. But then I'll have to leave soon. I can't stay. No matter how much you may ask me to. But I can't stay where I'm not wanted. I'm afraid you'll regret this in the morning. You'll look at me with pitiful eyes and think you're using me, because you don't really love me. In the morning you'll be sober, and you'll remember that what you feel for me was just the excitement of alcohol. So I'll leave before then. 

Pretend this is all just a dream. Tonight. Every night. The whole year that you were mine. It was all just a dream. And when you finally give in to sleep, I'll leave. But I'll stop for a second. Brush your hair out of your face. Gaze at you one last time. And I'll kiss your forehead and hope you have better dreams.