write drunk, edit sober

forget my legs around your hips, forget your lips against my ear, forget my teeth against your neck. and replace you with the taste of strangers in my mouth, searching every night in the bottom of bottles but i can never fucking find it.  i have never even come close.  i can only know the hard edges of motel card keys, the smell of smoke in my clothes, your creased and folded obituary. i read it time and time again.  and i can't get this any clearer, can't fight this off- it's six months later and i am still always fucking graveside.  thinking about the time you said, mimi, i want to spend the rest of my life with you.  no drink lasts long enough.  no night is savage enough.  nothing ever comes close and i wake up to bruises on my arms and blood in my mouth.