t-osborn
I’ve gotten to the point in life where I’m done. I’m done with being like the cigarette I just put out, I’m done with being smoked and put out when I’m no longer any use to you. I no longer want to be anyones bottle of alcohol, I’m not just here to help you forget and then be thrown away when you’ve taken everything out of me. I’m tired of holding stiff hands and kissing cold lips. From this point forward I will only have a person in my life if they can prove that they deserve to be in it. Because I am tired.
It’s all a metaphor, of course (via t-osborn)
narcol-ptic

Every morning,
I wake up and tell myself
“Today will be the day you will forget him.”
I get in the shower,
and wash you from my flesh,
rinse remnants of you still clinging onto me from my dreams,
watch you swirl into the drain.

And for a moment,
you stay there.
But when I step outside the shower,
I see you creeping from the drain.
You follow me back to my room,
a few paces behind me,
and then you begin to wind yourself
around my thoughts
like a boa constrictor.
Suffocating my mind with your presence,
until I can only see stars the color of your eyes.

Every morning,
I wake up and tell myself
“Today will be the day you will forget him.”
And every night,
I fall asleep saying,
“Tomorrow.”