Cough syrup and gin slow
the beat in my heart
and the ink in my skin
and the thoughts in my head
     until I forget why I started,
why I stopped.

So I cover my nails in black
and trace the roses on my hip,
soaking in the cigarettes and aftershave
stuck in the fibers of your flannel
that kisses my knees
and leaves me naked in tears
and empty spaces.

Sleep runs away from my eyes
and I’m left in the light,
frantically searching for something
I have already found
in the dark.