Ironically solemn

I can't exhale for I have chapped lips
Kissing you was my last trip
High and staring at your hands
You're splintered at the nail
You say it's from peeling back your skin
Though you soak in a high again
And I'm alive almost on a queue
Having doubts already
Each day that I'm with you
My smiles grow heavy
So I'll sip on this black coffee
Slip out of a tan complexion
Fall into a comma of misdirection
Mirrored with halls of your reflection
Trapped behind walls of my addiction
Tuck me in with your blanket of nightmares
You're the boogie man, but I don't care
No creamer, just poison in my cup
I start to asphyxiate and I don't give a fuck
Now I can't exhale for I have chapped lips
Because kissing you was my last fucking trip