you’d think
after all this time
wantin would have
the decency
to get fuckin bored
apparently not
it just got a little more patient
learned some manners
stopped kickin in the door
and shoutin my name
from across the goddamn room
and started waitin
for someone else
to let it in
funny how empty bottles
collect dust differently
than everythin else
as tho the glass
holds onto fingerprints
longer than skin
sentimental as fuck
but that’s the problem
isn’t it?
that there are mornins
when missin it
comes easy
easier than rememberin
why it shouldn’t
and I can’t just
leave it at that
but addiction
has always been
a stubborn little bastard
findin its memories
beneath a sky
still wet with stars
where old habits twist
another small eclipse
from its neck
glass kisses teeth
carryin dawn
in its throat
it seems
memory has a way
of makin this shit
feel almost tangible enough
that the tongue
goes lookin
for what isn’t there
and the body
traitorous motherfucker
that it is
responds eagerly
saliva gatherin
behind my teeth
for somethin
that ain’t comin
but maybe
some part of recovery
is knowin the consequences
while the mouth
still waters
