I want to imprint on you. Just as the girls before me.
Don’t lie at me and say I can’t see the sharpie marks on your skin.
I got drunk because I knew I couldn’t kiss you sober.
I stumbled into you like you were the bathroom at a bar.
I took a look around and I couldn’t even miss them: drawings, words,
phone numbers and lipstick kisses. **** the mirror; don’t look at me.
— The End —