And It Keeps Coming Back to This

 
Doesn't take a few
to make me want to call
just makes the urge stronger
somehow, I've fought it off
drink in hand or not
playing, replaying those songs
that make me want
or want to cry
or both, which is the real sweet spot
no matter what
I end up drunk on something

And I could crawl
don't mind spending time
on my knees
but there's nowhere to go
other than my bed
where dreams of you wake me
leave me shaking
with the phantom of your lips
not quite brushing
against hungry skin
whispers of fleeting midnight words
intoxication rushing through my veins

You wanna know
if I'm still yours

Some doors never shut