Sex.

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I held that bottle like a constant battle I couldnt fathem.

The nights passed, I slept with more women then darkness that passed me.
I didnt remember any but one.

Drunk and high with my first love, but no love was present in the room, just lust.
I remember and regret.

I drown in liquor to forget

Burn my lungs to stop breathing

Breaking pills with my teeth.

Smell powder with power.

I take my flu shots daily, but it pails in comparison to the words etched on my chest.

Her nails in my back and chest, her pain transferred to me.

I showed it that year, I cried in pain as more knives stabbed into me.

More bottles littered the floor as more blood dripped, more bibles grew blurry.

I seen lights only to wake up in the hospital.

Disappointment after disappointment.

Poetry : A King's PovertyWhere stories live. Discover now