the choices you made with the poison you take.

Back in the days when I slept

with an 80 proof bottle on the left side of my bed,

the world was blurry, uncertain, with strange emotions

I barely knew what to do with.

I saw him tearing up over a ghost I dreamt about,

I saw her tearing up as I held her face between my hands,

so I helped them, between clean shot after shot,

they never knew about from how well-hid it all was,

as I snuck in the bathroom and punched all of its walls

over and over,

and over again,

until my knuckles were bruised,

the hidden bottle was gone,

and my spirit was torn

with the memories

of all those nights

I completely

forgot.