I’m a Rebel Just For Kicks Now

When I want to text you No. 3, “How bout them Mets?” Where are you? I can’t text you. And I only want to for selfish reasons. 

And you, Guy, Number 1, you know I’ve only thought of you once the last two days? Respectively. But still, it’s an improvement. I can’t search for your truck out here. There’s no reason for you to be in Kentucky. But the sirens, the trucks, they pass, and I think of you. I hate you but want you.

I want you to know I’m happy and moving on and more successful now than ever. Baby, I’m sorry, I’m not sorry. Really, I’m not.

About bourbonbreathmom

No words can describe me;)
This entry was posted in #dating, #love, addiction, lonely, love addiction, Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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