That bottle sat there half empty,

atop my dresser where you left it.

I often looked at it with envy,

knowing that it touched your lips.


Some told me that the bottle was half full,

but I just told them that was bull. 

If that bottle was half full.

I wouldn't be sitting here with all our memories bouncing back and forth in my skull.


Three months went by and it still sat there half empty.

My heart its reflection.

Thanks to you, everytime I look in the mirror 

I see nothing but imperfection.


I wish you saw the bottle half empty,

but you saw it as half full.

I'm sure getting rid of me soothed your soul.

I'm feeling everything while you feel nothing at all.


12 a.m. and I poured that bottle down the drain.

Now neither half empty nor half full,

hoping to feel something other than your gravitational pull.

But it was just empty.


Just like me. 


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