Isn’t it funny how we care about things that don’t matter anymore?
I still remember our Instant Messenger conversations. I tried to forget them; the way I used to memorize how many smiley face icons you used in each message. But no, it’s still stuck in the forefront of our memory.
I’ve lived and loved so much; years of forced, broken relationships. Years of emotionally killing myself. They seem like a means to a end: the end being forgetting you. But no. I’ve loved you and I always will. The lost opportunities are what drive me to drink, drive me into doomed relationship, what drive me to destroy myself. I’d rather take numbness everyday rather than dealing with the sorrow of not having you.
I still read over those messages and texts, you know. I still smile in all the exact same places I did then. I try to recall the feeling I had back then but I just can’t. I try to mimic it, imitate it like a shoddy replica of a famous painting. But no, I do not have the tools or skill to replicate that.
I fall in love so easily, it seems. Every I do centers around it. But I have to live with the fact that I don’t have you and I probably never will.
I’ve lived and loved and learned but I’ve never learned how to forget you.
The echo of your voice still keeps me up at night,
And I thirst for the touch of your skin
Like a man in the desert wants water.
But you left in this hole inside me
That I’ve tried to fill up with everything:
Sex, drugs, alcohol and guns.
The battle cry of a generation lost and fucked.
You were the marrow in these hollow bones,
You were the blood in these shattered veins,
You were the air in these corrupted lungs,
You were the beat in a heart without rhythm.
But I’m left with whiskey and smoke and tears
Hidden behind a veil of smiles and snarky remarks.
I’d pray in your church every night if I still could,
I’d worship the shape of your ghost,
But I’ve given up raising the dead long ago.