you smelled like stomach filled with ethanol. do you think i wouldn't notice?
i kissed you, though. i drown your tongue, buried deep—almost touching my throat. it was ticklish, it was hard. you were salivating, and i bet it was because of the alcohol you drank just before. 30 seconds later, i bet you'd puke. the stench would be too much and i bet i'd puke if some of it gets in my mouth. so i pushed you away. you're so lonely. you drawn yourself in those flammable, pungent liquids because you wanted to sleep. i bet you don't know how much you wanted me to kiss you. i bet you don't know how soundly you'd sleep if just hold you. you're so furingly clueless.
you know i'm just the same. and you know i'd leave once you finish throwing up everything, once you reset your state of mind again, be alone again. it wasn't alcohol you were so fond of, you were addicted of being touched. you wanted to be seen. you wanted someone to care.
and i am just as desperate.
i leave and i will water the small hope in my heart that you'd still remember me once you're sober, maybe you'd call me again? damn... see, i am just as desperate. i want you to remember. i want you to run to me. each time you cry, the water falls down and feeding the hope i've had. each time you salivate, i hold your mouth open just to get some of the water. you won't but i still wish you would.
i am just as desperate as you are clueless.
but every time, everytime, once i leave, it was the bottles you suck again. do you think i'd know better one day?
