2:43am

It’s 2:43am and I can feel you,
how you’d hover above me, staring at me with those baby blues
and with every pull of the bottle,
the taste of your name becomes less awful
and my thoughts start to blur
but I don’t think there’s any cure.
I want to wash you away in order to stay sane,
you’d disappear like even the worst stain.
 The drugs came next,
and with each drag I feel less perplexed.
Is it you disappearing, or is it me?
From you, will I ever be free?
Cause the bottle’s almost empty,
and those drugs, we’ve no longer got plenty.
I’m running, chasing the bottoms of bottles in order to forget
just what you taste like on my lips.
I’m trying to remember to forget,
my lungs burning from multiple cigarettes.
The hollowness inside is what I’m running from,
the world fading into a distant hum.
The sheets still smell of your cologne,
and the pillows echo in my ear our every collected groan and moan.
I can almost still see your towel hanging in the bathroom on that crooked hook,
how can I outrun you, when you’re everywhere I look?