7 weeks, every Monday, you counted it along with me.

I take a look at myself now,

As I sit in the bath,

Drinking some cheap shitty wine from Aldi,

Didn’t want to waste a dime on lonely average alcohol binging nights, they don’t happen often,

Beautiful South sits along with me,

Singing heartfelt songs about relationships and reality,

Not long ago you spent the weekends with me,

Maybe not every but it was something,

I’ve wasted my chances,

Even a hello now is simple ghost,

But when I left your shop you scanned my face,

You asked me what plans I had in place,

I haven’t even seen one mate.

It’s not that I don’t want to feel OK,

It’s just its not OK what’s been happening,

But you seem so happy.

And I guess that’s all I need to know,

So long as it’s OK for you,

It will be for me too.

I’m fucking joking by the way,

Here it is babe,

12 weeks and 6 days,

Finger poke the nose and stroke the dimples on my face,

I’m stressing out,

Days,

You counted along with me.

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