his whisper lingers in the air
over and over i inhale his breath
knowing if i didnt
id soon suffocate
his hands growing to be the carbon dioxide
that fills the drink going down my throat

its not him that i fear
nor the hell he put me through
but the way he left me
as i cant stand any better
than how he said i would when he was through with me
but that was years ago
now my minds more cloudy
than the smoke that emitted from his mouth

that night
i was supposed to "see heaven and its stars"
now im wishing to be one of those stars
or the devils servant below if i must
or even a speck of dirt soon to be lost
in a nonexistent form of life
with no closure
but no pain

it sounds so much better
than living in the shadow of his words
and by the grasp of his hands

god im so sick
its been this way before winter hit
my nose has been running and running
i cannot smell a thing
i cannot see a thing
and im starting to question
if what im really taking in
is his alcoholic breath

*it wouldnt be the first time i guess.