Kyle

cold cuts from the liquor

blue lips, frigid fingertips

black covered my eyes

stomach ached wtih not the alcohol, but the fear of not being good enough

1 down, "give me another one"

memory loss to cover your losses

messy hair, messy evidence you left

love was just words to you

no meaning 

liquor was in love with me

with a tight grip on you

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741