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I am drunk again. I will always blame it on you, nobody should ever pedal the notion that warmth from within comes from nothing else. I bought what you sold in the form of hickeys and frat basements. Slow dances we wont remember and confessions we never should have made. I was a good fuck because I couldn’t say no, I couldn’t say anything. You showed me you don’t have to feel good, you just have to manufacture it. Sell it. Everything was glossy (with sweat) and stuck around (I stained my favorite top with Fireball). Bottles so shiny and made to be sipped from, college kids can’t afford nice glasses. There was no limit and there never will be. This pit is bottomless and I am skydiving, it is such a thrill and I feel like I am going to throw up. Only I can’t feel my heart beating, only my head throbbing and god, I could use another. I watched you drink what you could have cried, and spilled my guts all over the cold toilet seat. There goes that warmth, there goes the comfort, the hug that is stolen beer. The embrace that was once you. I will take a black marker right over everything that happened last night, last weekend, three months ago. I don’t want to remember how it felt when you rubbed a pink eraser over the sheet in your journal I once lived in. I was somebody else in your bottle, before you learned to pace yourself. You learned your limits with me, you learned I was your limit and you got sober. I got drunk again. You held my hand when you didn’t know quite what you were doing, you kissed me in front of your friends. You learned from me when you saw what you taught me was all wrong. When you made me cry and all I could do was beg you to stay, you knew it had gone too far. Teacher learned his lesson. I am drunk again. I am drunk again. It is a Monday and I haven’t felt such a caress since the last time you told me you loved me. You were drunk then.
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holy fuck
ReplyVery well written.
ReplyAlthough the word is peddle, not pedal in that context.
Reply