Hung Over

Lying half off the bed, I listen to your voice.
Recorded messages. Broken guitar strings.
You are no longer in my dreams.
Because warmth can only linger for so long,
until the touch becomes numb.
And I feel so incredibly stupid,
for believing in such pretty words.
Romantic poems. Sweet serenades.
They're just empty words written while drunk.
And I must have been incredibly so.
Because I can no longer remember you.