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

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