This is the Countdown. Dated 1/1.

Out of sight, out of mind...

might as well me your mantra, baby. Thank god this warm place called me away, or else I would've stared hurt in the face after more time and sentiment. Not even one month deep and now it's clear you can't handle something honest. 20 minutes to a fresh start, I was thrown off balance. But you can bet that I celebrated as the countdown began. For 10 seconds, just minutes after your blindsiding, you didn't matter. Because you can deny it, but I know you wanted to be rid of me for guilt free fun. Don't pretend it was anything else, anything else could've waited out the 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2...

You sold yourself out. She'd cuddled up tight to your side, and I hope you forgot who she was for a second when you opened your eyes. I hope your hangover bites at your mind like it usually would your stomach. I hope you wake up sorry. I hope you find morning, mind cleared of Keystone and skol, and realize the mess you made. All I can wish is that you know now, as you sober up, that you were the asshole that caught me off guard.

See you when you come crawling back to me.

(This has been on my phone forever, and I finally decided I liked it enough (and wanted it to stop taking up space on my phone) to post it. This is the first piece I wrote in the new year, word for word, as I wrote it January first.)