Memories much like wine spill easily
They stain the brain like a carpet
But stains are never good
Unlike memories
So perhaps they're not all wine
Just the ones that taste like you
I swear I got so used to you
I no longer cared about the stain
Deep red so you'd forever be imprinted
Because you knew what you were doing
You wanted to make sure I remembered
Every time I fell to the floor in tears
I saw the red that matched the color of my heart once you ripped it from my chest
You wanted to spill your memories on every dress, every song, every inch of skin
So that even breathing left me with a feeling of your intoxication
You didn't want to fit into any cup because you loved falling from the rim
Onto my bedsheets, my books, my dreams
And though my mother tried to teach me
I never did learn how to properly remove a stain