Whiskey drips from his lips
like an endless stream of lies.

It's bitter, you think.
Like black coffee,
like harsh asphalt,
like the bleach you use
to clean up the mess that
isn't yours.

Are you thinking about the drink
or his lies?

But it doesn't matter;
they both leave the same taste
on your tongue.

my first love was
in the right place at the wrong time
my second love was
in the right time at the wrong place
and you
my last love
i may not have met you yet
but you're still in my prayers

there is
       something
             so comforting
about the
                         smokey
          smell of
                                           cigarettes
                                                       saturating the soul
first thing in the morning
                                              especially when
it’s on his
                  breath
                               and he’s
                                                kissing your nightmares away

sapphire nights
spent with your body
pressed on mine,
hearts racing
stars aligning
moonlit promises
forgotten by dawn,
each bittersweet memory
a reminder
of what could have been.

and if you are to love,
love as the moon loves;
it does not seal the night-
it only unveils the beauty
of the dark.

I've tried to write
So many poems about you
But you're beauty is copyrighted
And I don't believe
In plagiarism