January
Every January
I wake up with that feeling
Of wanting to be new
I squeeze into soft curves
Wringing out any excess thoughts of you
Clinging to me like bad breath
After a morning cigarette
When you used to be my fix
Now all that remains between us
is brokenness
An ache in my head where clouds used to be
Pit in the place of butterflies
Hard to believe you were everything to me once upon a time
Now I don’t even think you could recognize
me as more than a passerby
🌑
Comments
Post a Comment