Heartache tastes like regret (and second month anniversaries) but it’s still as bitter as morning breath.
Waking up to you each morning, falling asleep with you at night I’ve become accustomed to your touch and
taste and .words I want to scream at you are c.r.a.m.m.e.d into my mouth (rotting-they taste like vomit(I’m gagging)) so I stand motionless as you berate me with reasons why I’ll never be good enough for you.
Alice is laughing
at me, and I’m starting to wonder which one of us really
fell down the rabbit hole..