The beer bottle rolled from one end of the table to the next, leaving a trail of carbonated amber leftovers where it stopped. Smoke tumbled from the glass ashtray next to the glass bottle, and her heart silently shattered like glass, too.
She whispered through tears over the roaring TV and his labored breaths, “come closer.” The air moving in his lungs was tainted with that God-awful acrid smell.
“Do you like me?” His question seemed irrelevant, but when she looked into his eyes she saw something brutally honest. She saw a flash of fear; something he never would have let be seen if he were sober.
“Don’t be an idiot and just come closer.” His hand fell on her head and he kissed her cheek and wondered who in God’s name could have made her heart hurt so damn much.
Your lips and touch are fertile, for they have grown me so kind that flowers grow inside my lungs, and God I can’t breathe.
I’ve been really sad lately and I’m not too sure where it’s coming from, but I know the last time I felt alive was when I was between the sheets with you gripping my waist and the last time I felt like dying was when I was on my knees for him holding my head. And I just hate that people make me feel so euphoric and disheartened all at the same time. I realized I give so much kindness to others that I don’t even have any left for myself but I dish out smiles like cigarettes on a crisp and cold summer night because I think that maybe a smile will make me feel a little more alive but I get better results with the sting of vodka sliding down my throat chased with your tongue and my hair laced with your fingers, but you only feel alive enough for that with vodka sliding down your throat first.