Broken promises and vodka

i have moved on long ago, but on some lonely, cold nights...
it all comes crashing down on me...
the sound of him still hangs in the chaotic silence 
the smell of him still clutches to my tired bones,
the idea of him still tries to crawl back inside my skin,
i will not be fooled again, though.
i know all too well that
his sound wasn't a calm melody to my heart, it was a shiver sent down my spine with every scream.
he smelled not of peace and stability - but of broken promises and vodka
and lastly, the idea of him wasn't ever love - it's been an ongoing war in which the fog became too toxic
you had to constantly dodge the bullets he threw
the idea of not being able to move forward through the mud he created
but i have

and i keep the past close, not because i haven't moved on
but because i remember all the reasons i remained, and remain, gone.

-don't go back to an old love, if you can remember the reason you left all too well.