I.

We hadn't spoken in months and i
Didn't want to.
I told myself I was done with you and i
Wouldn't speak to you ever again.
But you told me you had drugs and i
Can never pass up a free high.
So I came over to yours and we
Went back to the same old thing,
Minus the kissing.

I don't want your apologies,
Because I'd have to remember who we were
I block it all out with the things you offer me:
Flat champagne, a half-smoked blunt, your roommate's menthols:
You don't smoke.
I'm quitting.

We'll act as though we
Never made dinner together in your kitchen
Because it would be weird to bring up how we
Used to make out while the water boiled for the spaghetti
And if anyone mentioned the fact that
I know the exact shade of purple your neck bruises to
We would need more champagne than we can afford.

I told myself I was starting over in a new city,
I'm moving away from the city where I fell in love with you
And moving to the city where I fell out of love with you.
It was a Saturday morning.
I promised myself I would never let anyone
Treat me the same way you did
A "thank you" had never made me feel as cheap as yours did.
I promised myself I would never let anyone
Treat me the same way you did.
I get careless, pop pills and drop secrets
To anyone that asks me enough questions.
The way you loved me made me afraid.

I don't know if you love anyone nowadays
But if you do I hope she
Can look in the mirror without crying and I hope
She spends a night a week not drinking to forget,
Even though I know you don't.
I hope she stands up to you.
I didn't.
I hope she stands up for you.
I didn't.

If I were honest with you
—which, for the record,
I won't be and have never been—
I would admit that I owe you more than money
I owe you a truth you'll never hear
About the real reason I'll smoke your weed but I
Won't hold your hand ever again
I owe you a slap in the face for the time that you
Kissed my ex-girlfriend
And I pretended that it didn't eat me up inside
And I owe you an apology for
Well,
I have a lot to apologize for.
But we're not getting into that because i
Would have to remember what we were.

II.

I remember
The time when I was on crutches for two months
And I sat on the couch watching feel-good movies and crying.
Now that I'm off crutches I happily sit on the couch watching movies
Pretty much every day but
I always want to run when it's not an option anymore.
When I left you
I was still on crutches but I ran anyway
And split the stitches in my knees
And the sutures in my heart but
I had a lot of pain pills and I took every single one.
They made me cry all day and throw up sometimes but
I have a habit of getting addicted
To the things that will hurt me worst.
Eventually I ran out of pain pills and I ran out on you.
I'm trying to convince myself I don't need either one but
Oxycodone is a hell of a drug
And so is a lover who makes you sure you will never be enough.

I'm not bitter
Not much anyway, even though it sounds
Like I'm holding a grudge.
It's just that I'm finally running,
But I'm running straight back to the place
I left you.
And I don't want you back, no,
Not like I'd like the drugs back, no,
But the feeling of not ever being enough
Didn't leave me when I left you.