I pour myself into
your glass each night,
a toxic taste, I beg
for you to choke on.

You drain our bottle
dry, drinking desert
laps but still thirsting
for Pacific oceans.

Delving into firework
taste-buds, savouring
how we spill so easily in
nights drunken palms.

Telling me I'm cheap
stuff, liquid eyes that
keep you sober, but are
still a tempting sip.

The sky knows
how much I wanted to reach you.
The stars heard
the never ending wishes I had
to hold you through.
The rain saw
the tears I poured
synchronous to its droplets
when I was thinking of us two.
Old photographs have tracked
every gaze I made
before I let go and start anew.