I've been told we replace the majority of our cells every ten years and that each person has at least two true fears.

I met you on New Year's when I was nine over flutes of white wine and my mistake was that I didn't take it as a sign because you weren't sold under shoes tied to a power line. My mother warned me against flammable sticks of cancer because they can turn my cells amber and I'd wager she's glad I didn't go down that path but instead chose to place my mouth on those of a boy's from down south.

I'm afraid the skin on my hips will never forget the feel of your lips because ten years is plenty of time to fall back on old addictions and you were never removed my heart's list of tourist attractions.

My mother warned me against hedging my bets on bottlenecks but after your side effects I wish I had just found happiness after each bottle's madness.

I'm afraid the skin on my hips will forget the feel of your lips because I need a constant reminder of why without you my life will be better.

Ten years is plenty of time to fall back on old addictions but I take comfort in the fact that I won't be exactly the same person.