If our feelings aren't mutual, I can accept that, but please don't act like you love me back.
My hard earned money does the best it can do to keep you warm and spoil you too, but you kept the gifts and found someone new and now he takes off the sweater I bought for you.
Yet you still come back to my arms, lie to my face, and tell me I'm your "soulmate" when you know lying is the only thing I truly hate.
So, when I walked into your room to see you sleeping on his chest, I had to search for a drug that would do the best to rid my mind of you.
Alcohol is my best friend. It's the only thing that keeps me from skipping to the end.
And I drink every night until I can't see, yet it still doesn't fuck me up as much as you did to me. It doesn't remind me of what I wanted us to be, so I'll pour a drink out for you... because you're dead to me.
YOU ARE READING
Educated Stress
PoetryThe third collection of my poetry. All of these poems were written during my freshman year of college.
