I swallowed 3/4 of a bottle of vodka and vomited everything but the thought of you from my brain. The next morning I woke up and the headache still screamed your name.
I went to smoke a cigarette, but pressing it against my lips reminded me of you. You had a mouth like filter, something that’s supposed to make harming yourself a little smoother. You had a smile that curved nicotine and I couldn’t help but want to inhale your laughter. Now, I’m stuck coughing up smoke and pieces of you in places they don’t belong; like first dates, and coffee shops.
When I smoke weed it’s worse, my body shakes and spasms against itself. It feels like my skin keeps losing you over and over again.
I tried to forget you by touching different girls bodies. When we were together I swear I spoke four languages; English, French, Spanish, and whatever prose your skin whispered into my palms. Their Braille makes my hands feel dyslexic at the touch. I can’t read their flesh because it’s not written in your goosebumps, the ones my fingertips spent far too long memorizing.
My veins keep craving you. My bones are aching for your high. I would do anything to feel you again. Without you, I’m an addict, without an addiction.
— (via fagwit)