an ink like fog

I suppose I should say that tonight was nice
but in truth I hardly know what happened
I don't know were my mind was
I don't regret the nothing that happened
But I also feel bad for not remembering every second
for every time I try to remember what I did,
more of what I felt
those thoughts dissapear for me
into that all to familiar ink like fog

and I hate myself for it
there is nothing in this world that I want to do more that destroy this skin that he finds so endearing.
I don't deserve a nice guy
why don't I realize that yet?