confessions of a damaged heart

Perhaps it was true and I'm long gone, perhaps you're going to dance with her like you never did with me, you're gonna take her out and she will taste like fresh strawberries and smell like daisies in her hair, she'll be prettier than I ever looked to you, flowered dress, combat boots. You're probably going to fall in love with her while choking down 5 shots of vodka because you hated tequila and I loved it, it'll go through all your body until you get intoxicated enough to get the thought of me out of your head and focus on the girl that's slowly dancing infront of you, she'll want to become who you think about when it's 3 am in the morning and you're more than alone, just the spot I used to have, and you'll find yourself staring at her, trying to look at her like when you looked at me. She'll try to pull you closer and kiss you but you wont even feel it, she is not playing with your dark and messy hair while holding your neck and staring at your eyes, she's just doing it wrong and being a stranger in your soul. And when this happens I hope you run to the dingy red bathroom behind the bar, splash your face with cold water and be drunk enough to vomit the words you never said to me. While you're out drowning in things I shouldn't care about anymore, I'm here writing in this filthy white paged book thinking about how fucking cold the night is and how much I fucking loved you. And when you take her home, I swear to god the moonlight will keep you awake no matter what time it is, and you'll watch it shine across your bedroom floor just where our clothes used to lay but then again it'll be hers and not mine. I hope you don't laugh with her as much as you did with me, I hope her mouth doesn't taste like my love. But what I mostly hope is that the night catches your attention more than the sight of her would and I hope when you wake up all you remember is how good morning was given with a kiss on your pale cheek, how "I love you" sounded better on my lips, how scratching your back was my favorite thing, and how you can't escape the light of the moon, 4:15 am