Pretty pathethic

Having a toast, with my old friend, Sadness.
"Drunk as hell" drunk lvl reached.
Thinkin' about our love, fake just like your promises.
And I'll drink more, till my love is bleached.

Realised I'm just one card in your deck.
Just one more blue vein on your neck.
Yell on me, spit on me, but at least, give my memories back.

My jeans are too thight, this light in the room is too bright, and
vodka and my feelings are having a fight tonight.

Still having all the feels, still dreaming all the dreams...
This poem is s**t and this love is s**t, and you know what else?
You don't miss me a bit.

People say you are a writer. Yes, your lies are poetic.
People say you're pretty.
Yes, you are pretty.
Pretty pathetic.