he only loves me when he’s drunk and I know that is wrong but i cannot stop my hand from pouring the bottle

and maybe if I wasn't so afraid of being alone I would not answer his 3 am call


perhaps if I could feel his skin against mine one more time the numbness would go away forever.

his kisses taste like raspberry ***** but that’s not why I get drunk off him

there is something intoxicating in the way he slurs my name
beckoning me to his dark silhouette

as his nose is pressed against mine his hot breath fans over my lips
      “i love you”
and in that moment I forget that he is on drink number 23

in that moment I cannot remember the taste of the tears spilled over him

I cannot remember the decibel his voice hits when he’s had too much and the dog is giving him that look of disappointment and the the TV is too bright

when he kisses me I forget the time he forgot my birthday and the temperature of his hands when he leads me upstairs

there is something in the way he holds me that gets me drunk off him, but he only loves me when he’s drunk


and maybe one day i’ll love myself enough to not need his love