I couldn't quit you no matter how hard I tried,
And oh,
I really fucking tried.
But I failed twelves times,
August through to October.
Sometimes you'd call me and I'd come running,
Other times, I'd show up unannounced at your door.
Either way,
it didn't matter - the result was always the same.
You'd kiss my face and dig fingers into my skin --
telling me there would never be another girl like me.
And we'd take turns breaking each other down --
sometimes I'd bind your wrists,
other times your fingers would tighten around my neck,
squeezing the breath out of my lungs.
And for awhile,
nothing in the world would exist except for your body and mine.
And we'd say, "this is the last time, really",
but we both always knew we were lying.
Hopeless and heartbroken and apart,
but I swear to God still pathetically in love.
Still perfect for each other.
And you'd slap me hard, tears in my eyes,
and I'd steal a kiss goodbye.
After,
I'd drive up that hill and gaze out over city lights,
and drink a Monster Energy or four.
If I was going to hell,
I might as well do it thoroughly.
You see, the problem was this:
I knew I'd still love you if I never saw you again,
and I'd love you if I saw you every Wednesday night.
And so of course,
I knew I'd rather love you even if only ever now in the dead of the night.
How do you grieve the loss of a soulmate still alive?
And oh,
I really fucking tried.
But I failed twelves times,
August through to October.
Sometimes you'd call me and I'd come running,
Other times, I'd show up unannounced at your door.
Either way,
it didn't matter - the result was always the same.
You'd kiss my face and dig fingers into my skin --
telling me there would never be another girl like me.
And we'd take turns breaking each other down --
sometimes I'd bind your wrists,
other times your fingers would tighten around my neck,
squeezing the breath out of my lungs.
And for awhile,
nothing in the world would exist except for your body and mine.
And we'd say, "this is the last time, really",
but we both always knew we were lying.
Hopeless and heartbroken and apart,
but I swear to God still pathetically in love.
Still perfect for each other.
And you'd slap me hard, tears in my eyes,
and I'd steal a kiss goodbye.
After,
I'd drive up that hill and gaze out over city lights,
and drink a Monster Energy or four.
If I was going to hell,
I might as well do it thoroughly.
You see, the problem was this:
I knew I'd still love you if I never saw you again,
and I'd love you if I saw you every Wednesday night.
And so of course,
I knew I'd rather love you even if only ever now in the dead of the night.
How do you grieve the loss of a soulmate still alive?