It’s 2:59 am
and your breath hints of alcohol.
You promised
you wouldn’t pour that poison into your blood this time.
You promised
you wouldnt flood my mind with destructive thoughts again.
You promised.
You
engraved
these
thoughts.
Infuse toxins into the paper cuts you sliced through my veins.

And I can hear your heart pounding as i lay my head on your chest pretending everything's okay.
Continue to say to our star and back but one day that star will explode.
And there are days like these
I would die
to inhale the one thing that's damaged me more than you,
and I can't even tell
if it's because I’m hoping to at least feel something
or if it’s to feel absolutely nothing at all.
Numb.
But I wont.
I’ve fought
too hard
to become a slave to substance again.
Paper cuts heal.