Drunk in Love.

11pm and the intoxicated pictures start to flow in.

Now it’s about half past 2am and you’re typing slurred, incoherent phrases that don’t mean a thing.

So tell me why I’m the one falling asleep in the broken glass shards of my heart.

And tell me why I wake up the next morning with a throbbing head, feeling sick to my stomach like I’m hungover.

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