leave me the white.

lipstick stains on the wine glass
spattered with conversations stuttered.
she downs the whiskey
to numb the fear
and i can’t fault her.

we’ve been running for so long now
it’s hard to stop. i figure
it’s not enabling
if your fingers curl
and you’re catching smoke.

she wipes her lips with a napkin,
red nail polish reflecting
the candle flame that flickers.
shadows contrasting features
and her eyelashes glisten.

she is beautiful
the way honeysuckles in summer smell
the way a cool glass of water feels
sliding down a throat parched
with regrets.

we sit across each other
faux confidence emanating
lips smirking
the kind of conversations we read of
when we were thirteen.

i don’t mix my alcohol no more,
chasers fuck me up.
i like the pure high that comes
from ground sugar,
fine like the wrinkles in my hands.

we grew up the way we imagined;
wild fireflies lit up too bright,
flirting with desires that devoured us,
burnt our wings by flying
too close to heaven.

i thought hell was brimstone and fire
now i know.
hell is full of picture perfect memories,
two bright smiles and too little girls trapped
in versions of truth.

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