Half drunk and fully ruined
I decided I was going to destroy myself
That summer.
Sometimes its poetic not to survive,
Not everything can be made to be beautiful.
I should've known that before I really did.

"I hardly remember what happened"
I insisted as tears filled my shot glass
And overflowed onto the table.
I licked it up of course,
I couldn't afford to loose something
I desperately believed could save me.

What I mean't by saying I hardly remembered
Was that I'd only thought about it every day since.
His eyes closed against his tattooed face.
My shorts and underwear
Lying on the floor.
When I stood up and that blood
Poured from between my legs.

Everyone laughed when I took a ninth shot.
"You're crazy"
They said,
But I was trying to **** myself.

After it happened
I sat on that floor and cried for so long
I'm not sure if I ever got up.

Drunk and somewhat sentimental I called you
On the corner of that street
Where nothing good ever seemed to happen.
Sitting on the asphalt and pulling at the laces
Of my shoes until everything unintentionally unraveled.
I heard you sigh when you picked up.
So loud and full of disappointment
It made my head ache.
"Why did you call me?"
You asked
Almost painfully.
And I cried into my bleeding hands
"Because nothing is beautiful without you"
I sobbed,
I don't know how to be beautiful without you."

He walks out of the car already stumbling
Closing the door with so much aggression I see it shake.
The bottle of whiskey hangs loosely in his fingers
And I know he doesn't believe in being broken.
He doesn't smile when he sees me,
Instead places his hand on the back of my shorts
Like a possession
He'll forget about in the morning.
When he takes a shot
And pours one down my throat
I see sympathy drip from his lips.

I know he's sorry for everything.

"It's not beautiful to be tragic"
He tells me idly as he watches himself in the rearview mirror.
"It doesn't make you special."
I almost spit out my strawberry milkshake when he says this.
He painted me this way.
All heavy eyes and shaky hands.
The tires squeal under the weight of silence
And he rolls his eyes to fill the space.
"You did this"
I tell him,
"You made me miserable."
He laughs,
But his voice breaks before he can finish.
"Look at me"
I sob,
"Look at the mess you made of me."