I've got one for my face,
a few for pain.
one for sleeping,
and two to wake.
if you fade off
like you're trying to,
well, I'll find one to take
to fill the void of you
I haven't been drinking
not a shot
not since you left.
I smoke in dim-lit rooms,
contemplating my red ink,
eyes hung on the pictures
always taking ever more.
but I don't know how to pose,
the smiles don't reach my eyes,
and I realize, but I don't understand
why every strangled word I've written
has been about you.
you'd think I'd find something
better to do.
A girl to kiss, with a name
I won't care to remember.
she'll glance to your photo
and laugh,
how easy for her
to laugh.
I envy the sound.
but she laughs!
because in that picture
your toy gun is at your temple
she'll say
"I've met a million girls like her"
and I'll frown as I pretend to wake
I'll pretend
to sleep.
I won't trust her
or let her return to this room.
I could never trust her
or myself
to love.
honestly.
maybe I'll find a pill to take to give me back some innocence.
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