Drink to forget.

Black out.

You don't remember anything
about the night before,
but you will never forget
what you were trying to destroy.

I.

Those weak sips of cheap beer on an unknown lawn
that you can hardly bring yourself to swallow
without throwing it up,

distract you from the memories you cannot remember
without getting sick on the strong, frothy details
that no longer taste good,
that no longer exist,
and merely slip down your throat
and dry out your leftover feelings.

II.

You try something stronger since vodka in soda and dark beer doesn't seem to be working.

A small shot of cheap vodka in a hot box seems like a good idea
as it burns fire in your throat like old lust and hot breath
and the feeling does not leave for what seems like months.

It travels down and heats your stomach with want,
old feelings of butterflies coming back
and you instantly ignite in angry passion.
that stinging nail polish remover out of a flask,
that weak nip,
blazes up your rage at how you have been wronged.

Your desire is in flames, anger at being lonely.
You wish it had dried your mind like the beer,
but all it did was sting your throat and your eyes,
like the times you cried when it was all over.

III.

Stronger still,
Braver still,
You try excellent whiskey.

The gulp of Fireball from a stranger on a dance floor is better than the rest.
It leaves sweet burns on your lips and tongue
and hurts in good taste.

Although still angry, you are filled with longing.
Maybe if you had drank more the anger would have left,
but still you kept fighting.
that cinnamon spice out of a stranger's bottle,
that distraction from life,
stop no melancholia from dancing on your eyelids.

Those sweet stings are painful reminders of the love and the war
that resulted from past perfection and current struggle.
It is a rush of all the fights that had kisses on the sores after,
things they promised to patch up together and never got the chance.

IV.

You wish you could dance with anyone,
Kiss anyone,
to discover a distraction.
Get over it.
But no clandestine kisses can fill the cracks,
No hard liquor swimming in your veins can take away the past.

You can forget the whole night.

...

But you see him in the morning light.
You see him cold sober in a dewey sunrise window
and remember he is none of those painful things.

He is not hot, sweat, lust, anger, greed, passion,
to be forgotten within and without.
Upon losing the night he comes back
as your cool, light, true blue heart.

Night turns to morning,
Amnesia turns to harsh remembering,
Hot emotions turn steady cold,
Because no matter how many shots hit your brain at midnight,
you will never forget who you lost,
and the feelings you are trying to destroy...