The taste.
So bitter, yet a taste you love.
For what?
You're addicted, it's like your drug.
That bottle.
You stare, you long for a taste.
The pain.
The bottle would take it away.
You grab it.
I hold your hand and say no.
This addiction...
It's something you have to let go.
"I'm fine."
"I swear, I can handle one drink."
You lie.
The bottle's gone before I blink.
Beautiful.
The words you mutter to me.
You hit.
You touch and won't let me be.
"You're drunk."
I say, removing your hand.
"I'm not."
You say but you can barely stand.
Your eyes.
You say everything's a blur.
You speak.
Your words begin to slur.
You fall.
You collapse, asking for another round.
You rest.
You decide to "sleep" on the ground.
Sunrise.
A new day has come.
Promise.
You say your drinking is done.
Sunset.
You hold a paper and pen
You're drunk.
You're upset.
Here we go again.
