tell me, brother bear,
what was it that made me so naïve?
what was it about you
that made me believe
you thought of me
as blood?
my mother always taught me
that blood runs thicker than water

but you were never water to me

I was fourteen when we
began mixing drinks for the first time
that night with you, I never knew
there would be a second time
the deja vu was nearly missed
but I felt it
I smelled it in your breath and felt it
as I tipped the bottle back

the second time around
I wasn't quite sure
who exactly I was drinking for
or who I was lying to more

we were never blood

the ***** flooded my veins in such a way that his name even began to taste
like yours
and I wasn't sure why the door
seemed like such an impossible feat
to reach

but it was

and so we drank
I drank until I couldn't see straight
and your face didn't look so much
like your face
you drank until you were drunk enough
to kiss me
and I was drunk enough to stumble up
the stairs
fall into my own bed
and never tell a soul

but let's be honest, brother bear,
our blood was never shared