Love

After a while, the stitches come off and the wound doesn't seem too deep anymore...
The blood stopped pouring and now there are lines where gashes once were.
The blades are safely tucked away and I lose myself in another glass of wine,
A glass of vodka, someone's bed, drowning in moonshine and I...
I don't think about you as often as I have in the past, 1000 times a day, fading fast...
And I'm fading away under moonlit skylights wondering where I can forget you again.
After a while, I forget the sound of your voice, the honey velvet hellos that would hold
Me inside that locket of yours, I'm bound to a tattoo on your heart...
And I ripped off the skin where you sank your anchor, I drowned all the sailors
And ripped out their hammer hearts, that sang out your name, the only evidence of
Internal pain is locked away, hidden away between ribs and between heroin stains on your veins,
Inside your fucked up dreams of marrying me and holding my child in your arms as your own...
And after a while this ain't love anymore, where I ask constantly for someone to hold,
Search constantly for someone to stop the thoughts in my mind, the knife in my back burning holes...
And I'm trying so hard to lose my mind inside each fucking bottle of 100-proof moonshine,
And I'm trying to speak Russian so well I can drown myself in a bottle of hell...
And there's nothing, my dear, short of a knife in my heart, that would cut you out,
That would rip you out of my chest, of my mind, of my soul...
And I'm even wondering if heroin could patch it all through, help me forget I know you...
Because this ain't love anymore, when I'm losing control of my soul...
Where I'm sitting around for months at a time wondering where's this man of mine...
Where the promises went, if they were ever true, if there's anyway I could find you?
And you fucked up, son, for maybe the last time, because with each passing sun
I lose my fucking mind wondering, worrying, pulling my strings,
Trying to find a fucking compromise, and I don't have time for this anymore...
I don't have time like before to convince myself this is okay, that this is love,
Because love, my Love, would never treat me this way,
And love, my Love would fucking find a way.