Tell me
Is the expression carved into your eyes and lips
One composed of lies
Or are you actually happy
Are you actually better off
Without the disease that is me
Is there a spring in your step
And do your combat boots
Knotted around your ankles
Weigh you down less than I did
Is that coffee still less bitter
Than the taste of my chapped lips on yours
Plastered in that sickly sweet strawberry gloss
Do you even miss me
Cause I sure as hell miss you
Im an addict going through withdrawal
Insomnia can't take your place
But it sure tries when my alarm clock
Reads two thirty five am
My mouth is so damn eager to meet with yours
Like it did months ago
My fingers are foreign to anything but your skin
So they attempt to scrape away mine
To replicate the feeling of you underneath my fingernails
I need an iv of you
But I don't dare steal you back
I don't dare shoot another line of your intoxicating perfume
If you are thriving with him
If you are so much better off without
The disease that goes by the nickname
That felt like a symphony in my ears
When it rolled off your tastebuds
YOU ARE READING
he/him/you
Poetry[completed] some half assed thoughts i've had about unrequited love and unnecessary hope shattering revelations
