The taste of alcohol burns me through and through
enters like fire that resonates out of my pores and into my mind
as I think of you and wonder why I’m not good enough
or why I’ll never be as good as him
on a cold evening such as this
where the waves can bring out the sadness
that seeps into your soul
I’d be just as warm as the words you share with him
maybe I am old news
maybe I am worn through
maybe I’m not for you
maybe I’m an alien and that’s why you say “I can’t speak aloud”
or maybe this is just ramblings induced by drops of Bacardi
but I always thought I was worth it
and I thought five years of patience would bring out the best in this
but maybe it was always the alcohol.