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Don't say you are leaving. You're already gone. A ghost, posed as you, now resides in our home. She tells me she loves me, among other lies. She sleeps in our bed on your side. I lie awake 'cause she is not my wife.

That ring on your finger was not tight enough to keep you here with me, depending on love. And, on some nights, the bottle seems as if it's breathing and singing "What More Could Go Wrong?".

It's cold and we don't even speak about why you are not who you claimed to be. It's time she packed all of your things and moved away. 'Cause we don't even speak about why you are not who you claimed to be. Oh, God, is this hell? My God, this is hell, isn't it?

Isn't it?

It's cold and we don't even speak about why you are not who you claimed to be. It's time she packed all of your things and moved away. 'Cause we don't even speak about why you are not who you claimed to be. Oh, God, is this hell? My God, this is hell, isn't it?

This isn't love.

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from .​.​.​a little less lost, released March 8, 2019

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Men and Mountains Fort Payne, Alabama

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