Your technicolor emotions turn into watered-down versions when the alcohol seeps into your veins. Creating watercolor paint, and with that, you craft me images of a world unframed. Sculpting beauty from hope and wonders you found on the floor.
Perspective lost to the consumption of liquid courage. Making way for actions unrestrained. A little too much. A little too lost. A little too loosely letting your tongue take charge. Amplified by longing. Tainted by the ever-growing ghost of tomorrow.
You will not remember when morning comes. The art you drew in lazy circles around my weary body. The daunting fables you wrote me into. Left to be nothing more than simple fever dreams to reminisce over.