"You know," he said watching me pour myself a drink. "All the alcohol in the world won't make him love you again." I wanted to yell at him, tell him to fuck off or go to hell, but I didn't. Instead I took my now full cup and chugged the luke warm liquid.
"It won't make him love me." I slurred. "But it'll make me forget his name."
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts From The Book I'll Never Write
PoetrySomething I had to write in order to feel again.
