Bittersweet Vodka

April 5, 2012
In all honesty, I never thought it would come down to this. Our lips meshed together like PB&J. Short, hot, breaths mingling in each kiss. Is that vodka in that mouth of yours? Or is it mine? Sweet, but, bitter. Just like us. It has the combination of both of what we are made of.

Our story.

It started so long ago, I don't even remember all the words. The words that were once written in love, is now faded. And all that is left is us, trying to hold onto to something that was meant to shatter long before.

This dance is dangerous, the one we are always playing.

As we fall onto the silk sheets, forcing a love to come together, as we join as one. I feel myself die, silently, nerve shattering. As we move together, only to come apart. This used to be lovemaking we would say, but now, it's only meaningless. Silent. No hushed whispers. Nothing spilling from out flushed lips.

And that sends the dagger through me. Slowly, patiently, as if the pain will last an eternity.

It feels that way. Like a never-ending flood of poison. No antidote. No relief. And one broken heart that will never stop dying. Never stop falling into this dark net that is now our relationship. Once our love story.

Is now our tragedy.

And now, our eyes meet, and there is only an empty shell of what we used to be. What used to pool in those eyes. In our hearts. And I wonder if it cuts you to see this end like it is, too? Like a cut that went too deep. The numbing of the pain, what was once blue, turned a dark velvet.

Does the scar bother you? The aftermath of what this will cause?

The sheer white burning that now is a blanket to my eyes. This is the moment we built up, the moment that makes our worlds bliss. Painless.

Our haunted souls release.

Maybe it was you, maybe it was me. Should it be both? The deep breath. Like it's the first breath we'll ever take. Or maybe its the last?

And again, we are no longer one. We've died again. Or was it just me?

Or maybe it was just you?

It's clear that death is beneath one us. The air is thick.

This, we are putting a mask over, covering what is broken. What has been shredded.

So why are we trying to find the pieces? When our eyes show the truth in this blood-ridden disaster?

As you move away, a cold sweeps through me. Like piercing ice through my lungs. Each breath, has the rippling pain. Smearing through out this body that I call my home.

But no glance back.

The game is over. Once again.

The mark is in place. This will be nothing but a page burned in hot flames. The remains will never fade away.

Just like the vodka.



Even so,

Without the bitter, the sweet isn't as sweet.

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