Hot, Wet, and Sufferable

hot, wet, and sufferable, is that what we are destined to be? You shot me through the lungs so i could depend on yours. No matter the apologies you got what you needed and I needed when I got. I breathe through you just for you to infect my tract and blame it on me. Will you do better, can you do better? Is this just who you are, who you were raised to be. I thought you were better than this but you stabbed me with a dull knife just because you knew it would hurt more. Your blows are low but I can blow even lower. The line were your legs meet my face were your favorite and you know I will never be back. I fill your void in a way you will never replicate. I left you standing there craving something you knew you polluted. You are my smoke, I love the smell of you, your feeling as you fill my lungs but the damage will never be worth the high yet I continue to burn my eyes and lungs and breathe in your secondhand smoke not caring who may have concerns as your more important than the rest. The shadows of guilt may appear when you see me, I feel a tinge of hope but remember what we shared and how you tore the light from my eyes, leaving a veil of smoke over my vision in your wake to remind me that every 4th of July will forever be yours the firework's there to remind me I never get to see you again.       

Note: I write this as if I have a shitty EX I however have never dated and don't plan on it either I am simply calling upon my muse (broken hearted Pete Wentz post warped tour 2005)  and over exemplifying my feelings of mundane day to day life what I have lost (my I-pod) and relationships that were never more than friendships because I never craved more or cared enough to want more, maybe I'm the boy without a heart (not that I broke any) I would say I plead the 5th but clearly I cant keep a secret.

Un-poetic Note pt2: Some of this is about how much I hate Bredon Urie but how I love Panic! and also bull shit I made up about crappy relationships I was never in.