Mugs, BLTs, and Crazy Eights

I have never been a religious girl, but I believed in the way you looked with my hand in yours. Sipping Stellas on a lit patio until two am

After parties when our minds couldn’t rest. The laughs, the smiles, the looks. I know how it felt, even if it was left unsaid. Now, nights are just fine; Mornings are what they are. But I hope someone somewhere is bringing you your coffee, Because no one is bringing me mine. The patios are still lit, and the booze is free. My friends are by my side. But no one brings me a beer, That tastes as good as when you handed it to me. Maybe you’ll wish for that heat to be something you get rid of Or maybe you’ll miss the leaves changing. The pumpkins, light chills, blankets, and plaid shirts All that shit I still love. I no longer know the address of your favourite pub But if you need a love like mine again, You can find me by the window With mugs, BLTs, and crazy eights; watching that sun come up. I don’t think I will ever be a religious girl Because I believe that the side next to me should still have you in it. I believe that people will break you down until you’re numb Even if I don’t want to admit it.