Queso Besos

Found yourself in the bottom of a wine glass or with a stranger in your bed
Found myself rediscovering what it meant to be in balance and I’m never gonna
feel it again
And I’ve been catching up with death; you’ve been catching up with recklessness
I’m somewhere in between closure and acceptance
The things betwixt: reoccurring and despondent
And I’m not sure if knowing is any better
To be aware is its own kind of heartache
I fucking miss you all the time
And you don’t think of me at all
You don’t miss sharing «I love you’s,»
Phon calls on rides home
Snapping pictures of dogs
And I know it’s slf-indulgent and one day I won’t need this