this year

i guess i'm doomed to find myself
in the coldest of places.
i fell asleep drinking wine and i woke up with bleeding lips.
make a game out of myself, that is.
it's what i've been trying to do when i feel erased.
from phonebooks, e-mail lists,
when i can't show up to parties because i'm too lonely.
 this year is a scar that won't leave.
 this year has broken me in ways i can't repair.
   this year,
     it's been hell.
sweetest of them,
your scent still lingers on
no sweat,
  no heat
no beat

 no love