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.