I have 5 bottles lining the walls of my heart
Their names are mixtures of contronyms
dredges of adulation, malice
just a sliver of delirium
I’d like to boast that they’re all for decoration –
just like my half witted remarks
my freckles that connect like those
constellations you so often observe
So highly speak of
Yes, I’d like to say it’s all an elaboration
– just like this smile –
a face to hide the one that you meet
Yet we all play hand in hand with each other
Those same hands that
carved memories
into every brain
they were able to latch onto
It’s a fickle game of
Russian roulette, with me and my bottles,
considering none of us really ever wins
I never win at anything
Anything at all
What a funny little game, isn’t it?
Éloa 
Leave a Reply