"One extra dry martini please. Oh hey wait! Make that two. And keep them comin"

She slid a hundred dollar bill across the table the way she slid the knife across my throat. Hesitant but then full force. No matter how many martinis that bartender slid across that counter, she always looked like she could use another. No matter how long ago she finished her cigarette, she could smoke another. She took everything beautiful in her life with a grimace but killed me with a smile. Her lips haunt my dreams. And her hands grip my throat. Maybe one day she'll finally get drunk enough to tell me all the things she's too scared to say sober.

I want to tell the world how I love you!

“I messed up.”
I only wish it didn’t
take you this long
to realize.
“Can we talk?”
My whole body aches,
yearning to say yes.
“Are you there?”
Yes, I am here.
“Please answer.”
I surely don’t think
I have that strength.
“I still love you.”
My heart beats,
my stomach churns.
“You were the best
thing that ever
happened to me.”
Funny,
I used to think the same
about you.
“Why aren't you answering?”
“Because for 7 months;
I waited.
You tore me apart,
it felt like I was drowning.
You didn't even look back.
Not once.
How can I just forget that?”
I hit send.
“I’m sorry…”
“I’m sorry too.”*
Except this time,
I don’t hit send.

Why did you keep your love letters hidden up inside your brain
We both know you were going to throw them out anyways.