this is the dirty truth.

61

His hair was messy, just like his personality. He never had any idea what he was doing, but he looked good while doing it. He used to give me a look while taking a drag from our shared cigarette, and I'd just stare.

"Stop looking at me like that," He'd demand.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm holding your world in my hands."

"Maybe you are," I said.

"The only thing I commit to holding is a cigarette and bourbon ."