i used to associate drinking with a small, white house
biting my lips as they became numb
i would saunter into the bright kitchen that i used to view as my second home - but this place is gone now

where i used to see flashes of black hair as i faded away into a dreamland
i now only know that sweet drink as loneliness and despair
spilling into me when i’m at my most vulnerable and clinging to my cringing tastebuds
it attaches itself onto situations that i don’t want to address, silently building up as it makes me think of myself as less than what i am

alcohol is now the boy i used to look up to, dancing next to me in a strobe lit room - his hands aching with bad intentions
the awful taste rests painfully upon my lips and it will forever stay there as i pause in random days, remembering his confident stare
wine is now the slow tug on my sleeping body as somebody much older than me disturbs me with a repulsive kiss in a room full of people - then blaming it on pills

the nights where i would dance in the small, white house with the girl i trusted the most have now been replaced with horrible memories that i once thought i would be able to handle
the sparkle of the walls i used to be so familiar with were washed away with the blank walls that i stare so intently at every night, wishing i could go to sleep

i often wonder if this is how things were meant to be for me.
i’m only so forgiving because i don’t want to be lonely
such a sweet drink now tastes bitter and evil, and there is no going back
to the house where i laughed
and when i felt okay