Intoxication from another’s love
is how I forget your face.
Pushing the boundaries of poisoning
day and night.
Eyes rolling back,
stomach pumping,
dizzy and spinning,
pleasure achieved.
Satisfaction?
Never.

I get drunk off of shallow love.
I crave it.
I want it.
I need it.
To forget you.
I crave the taste that numbs my senses.
I want the nausea to burn the pain.
I need the hazy feeling that throws
me into a sense of nonexistence.
I need it to forget you.

Sobriety grabs me every few days.
Anxiety finds it’s way into my mind.
I’d rather be under the influence.  
Facing reality means facing regret.
Ignore the past the way you ignore me.
Drunken state is better for forgetting.

I get intoxicated on fake love.
It makes me feel wanted
but the lump in my throat,
the loss that churns in my belly,
the swollen eyes staring from the mirror;
they **** the buzz.
Reality.
You’re gone.
Time to start forgetting.