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You’ve never looked better,
In that cashmere sweater,
I’ve never felt warmer,
In this chilly weather,
Holding your hand,
Two souls together.

Our first cigarette,
We chuckle,
Feeling defiant,
Chanting obscenities at the world,
We were best friends,
Me and my t-shirts,
You and your sweaters.

I still smell your perfume,
I still hear your laugh,
I still remember trying to light that first cigarette,
It was us against the world.

I remember our first argument,
That day on the beach,
I told you a band ******,
You threw your sandal at me.

A fight turned into a wrestle,
A wrestle turned into a swim,
Pushed you in the cold water,
With that same cashmere sweater,
That reminded me of the chilly weather,
And the first cigarette,
And the defiance,
And the hope.

Never in my life will I forget,
The memories,
Your laugh,
Your smile,
Happiness reigns in the shadows of loss,
You are still my happy place.

On chilly days,
I buy a pack of cigarettes,
I know I don’t smoke anymore,
But I miss the taste,
The taste of the memories we had.

I go to my room and look at our photos,
The same ones we took on that very day,
I hold my new cashmere sweater,
And I sit and remember,
What it felt like when I was home.
When I hold someone close,
Embrace them in my arms,
Feel the surge of passionate energy through my veins,
My fingers glide against the universe of your body,
I realize my universe is dead and empty.

I could have everything I ever wanted,
You,
But the chambers of my soul deny the simple human right,
Love,
And this drastic emptiness is caused by no one other than myself.

It takes happiness to know happiness,
It takes love to know love,
And I’m so loved,
But all I feel is darkness.

It’s cold here,
In this state,
In this world,
In this heart,
I want happiness so bad,
But where do I start.

It’s a beautiful aesthetic,
Being lonely and empty,
You are always filling others’ voids,
While you self destruct.

I guess at this unknowing,
This emptiness,
With nothing but hope,
And unconscious regret.

In bed with lovers,
Feeling as close as strangers,
Surround by love,
But filled with anger.

This is the danger,
Of loving with no heart,
I was destined to fall,
From the very start.
Hey bro,
Hey,
I’m having a party later wanna come by,
I really shouldn’t,
C’mon it’ll be fun I’ll pick you up at 8.

What do I wear I ask,
I never get invited to parties,
I get ****** drawn on my yearbook,
And I always get picked last for sports.

Hey mom I’m going to a party,
Oh the normal,
Just a study group get together,
My words light as a feather.

The clock strikes 8,
You pick me up,
Right hand on your steering wheel,
Left hand flicking a cigarette out of your window,
The scent of your cologne,
Smells like home,
But the way you look at me,
Home is where I should’ve stayed.

Do you drink,
Like alcohol?

Yes like alcohol,
No not really,
Aw c’mon man you’re coming to your first party,
I really shouldn’t,
Don’t be a *****,
I laugh and shrug,
I knew I should’ve stayed home.


We arrive at your house,
I imagine this is what being famous feels like,
All eyes on you as you step out of the car,
Probably without the empty looks and questions,
Why is he here,
They probably felt bad for him,
Look at him,
Disgusting.

The house was huge,
Owned by a business man,
Rich decor,
Only child,
What a lonely life.

Let me grab you a drink,
No it’s okay I’m really fine,
I bring you to my house and you want to disrespect me?

I guess I’ll have a drink,
That’s my boy,
With a wink and a turn,
You disappear in the crowd.

I sit on your couch in silence,
Bodies swarming by,
Conversations about *** linger in the distance,
I guess everyone knows something about someone,
Even if that person of subject knew nothing about it.

***** this,
***** that,
***** there,
And the best,
I guess **** are allowed here.

You return with the drinks,
Mine fizzy,
Your’s smooth,
Cheers he said,
Clink,
Now drink your drink.

Consciousness came in and out at this point,
My cellphone gone,
I can’t call anyone,
I need my mom.

One moment I’m in the living room,
On the couch,
On the stairs,
In a room,
On a bed.

I can’t speak,
My hands numb,
I’m cold,
My clothes are on the floor.

One pair of hands,
Then two,
Then three,
I lost count after the blindfold,
My screams cut short by loud music and rags.

I wake up,
My head hurts,
Bruises all over my body,
I’m in my bed.


My mother comes in scolding me,
Telling me how he brought me home,
That he told me not to drink so much,
That I fell down the stairs,
This is where the end of my life started,
With a “Hey bro”,
A drink,
A clink,
And a suicide.
The color of your skin reminds me of butterscotch,
Brown and sweet,
The taste of your soul,
Delicious without defeat.

The sudden loss of control,
As your fingers scroll,
Down the sides of my memories,
Hauntingly beautiful.

I can’t be trusted,
My morality,
My thoughts of the way you should be treated,
Blurred by visions of trauma,
I am not good for you,
Butterscotch boy,
You are just another toy.

I grow fond of you everyday,
But much like a child,
Fond of materialism,
Once I’m bored,
You will be tossed aside,
Forgotten.

Run,
Don’t stay,
Don’t suffer the fate of the other delicious men,
That couldn’t see through my facade,
My sin.

Trouble lurks,
In the form of my words,
A delicious drink,
Poisoned and absurd.

Like a kid in my candy shop,
A notch in my belt,
Butterscotch boy,
Your cards have been dealt.

— The End —