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