The first was easy.
Smooth.
Like a fruit.
Fresh.
I didn't feel too dizzy.
I didn't feel different.

The second was easy.
Sweet.
Tropical.
It was easier to swallow.
I was getting merrier.

The tenth was sloppy.
Splashes down my dress.
Your eyes watching.
Damsel in distress.

Then you walked over.
Too drunk to see my own reflection.
You made me feel worthy.
You made me feel beautiful.

Your hands were soft.
Of what I can remember.
The liquids numbed my senses.
I had no idea.

Your bed was cool.
Like the ice around my glass.
Removing my dress was easy.
I'd do anything in that state.

I don't remember much.
Waking up bruised.
I tried to get away.
More men than drinks in that room.

What happened to just your hands!
One is enough.
But these hands weren't so smooth.
Prodding delicate skin.

Wrists clearly shown.
I guess they knew what a mess I was
I guess they knew i'd be easy.

Well they were wrong.
And so was I.

The first few drinks are always easy...
But the morning after can be utterly devistating

I'll never find the girl I left at the bar.

I will forever be a peice of those awful men's hearts.
If that's even what you can call them.