He told me what heartbreak felt like over
6 cigarettes and 3 glasses
of something gold. He couldn't remember my
name after the the second refill.
He took long drags and
stared off into the distance with glassy eyes;
he tried to sing songs of pain in
between deep, rattling coughs. He touched my hand
gently when he spoke of good memories.
I never spoke, just listened to the
drunken nostalgia clinging to his voice. He taps his
cigarette over the ashtray and takes
another long drag before
Interjecting between a chain of wet hacks,
"You remind me of her".