Under the Ceiling Fan

It’s just another sad saga, 

thinking about you, 

missing you, 

music is only fucking up my mood, 

but I can’t help but listen, 

like it’s a better release than just tears, 

more than a memory of you, 

more nights staring at the ceiling adding to the baggage stored under my eyes, 

my favorite alcohol doesn’t even taste good anymore, 

but that gives me more than enough energy to sit alone in my sadness, 

do I look in the eyes of another with glossed lips and big hoops, 

or will I ever find you again…