Your hold on me was illusive and I learned to find comfort in the smoke filled basements we spent much of our time in.

It was burnt embers, cold evenings, and drug induced laughter.

But how can one feel at home with the knowledge of past flings filling the room?

What's one more shot to simmer the anxiety bubbling inside of me?

How could I have been so careless to believe the lies spilling out of your chapped lips every day?

But I am just a girl with sentimental longing and expectations that could never be up to par with someone who never learned to grow up.

Love is a responsibility and one who is not mature enough to hold it does not deserve to participate in it, how jaded I was to believe I could change your outlook.

It's quite unfortunate how easily you waste valuable things.

But when you wake up one day hungover from the past evenings occurrences and realize your actions are hollow and wish me to fill it, I will be long gone in the paragraphs of poetic verses; hopefully fulfilling my feelings of wanderlust.