these days

i can't seem to make up my mind,

or bed

with a half-eaten heart 

& tongue made of lead.

i'm missing being understood

by southern skies 

under a moon made of blood. 

and i wake up 

mid-dreaming of you

shaking, aching 

not knowing what to do

you were the metallic taste in my mouth

the sweat on my sheets

the music in my veins

& reason my feet hit the streets.

now it's all slow-motion

in the key of Cm,

hidden skin & darker eyes, 

knowing my past 

is just a make-believe blur. 

(without you, 

coffee tastes weak

whiskey doesn't burn,

and i know, 

babe, i know...

i just never fucking learn.)