Mommy always said I had expensive taste I guess that's why your champagne skin left me drunk with the empty bottle dangling from my limp fingers. I must ask, do you think of me still? Cover your lips with honey before you answer; sugarcoat it as best you can. 43 tiring days later and I have yet to master being able to say your name under a relaxed jaw. I wonder if this will get any easier to accept; until then, cheers to those intoxicating bubbles soaking up in your bones' winter quilt. I'll leave you a glass on the table.