It should be noted that this was written while, yes, I was a little tipsy after a party in September last year.

I can’t think properly,
And it’s not even because I’m drunk.
Or maybe I am…
Drunk on the smell of your jacket;
The way your fingers are in my hair;
Your hands cupping my face and forcing my lips into a grotesque imitation of a smile
As you ask me why I look so sad.

Maybe it’s you.
You and your stupid guitar;
The way our eyes meet
Or don’t meet, won’t meet
As we sing words we don’t mean
(Well, you don’t mean them, anyway);
How your friend almost strangled me
Because I support the wrong football team.

Maybe it’s me.
Just me again,
Making crazy assumptions
And turning worthless moments into priceless ones.
Like that time we danced at my friend’s party.

Personally, I blame the watch.
That stupid fake Rolex you bought in China.
Damn thing was broken before you bought it.
But I’m still wearing it.
It appeals to me poetically,
Because I can write beautiful lines about it, like
The shining timepiece that encases my wrist has not ticked in so long.

But seriously now.
I think that maybe it’s just that the watch was already broken when you gave it to me,
Like so many of the things I gave you –
My heart, for example.
And like all broken gifts,
When you think you can’t screw it up any more,
You inevitably do.

Or maybe it’s just because the frozen watch
Reminds me of how I’d like to rewind to How It Used To Be
And stop time there
Like that photo your friend took of me in the kitchen
The one he’s not allowed to show anyone.

Maybe it’s all symbolism
And metaphor and simile
Illusions and reflections playing at reality.

Or maybe it’s just 3am
(Which it is)
And I really am drunk,
So it’s all worthless.

I wish I could be drunk enough to tell you how I really feel.
How much I wish I could hate you for destroying me.
And how badly I wish you would come back and pick up the pieces.