swimming in bottles


I find myself swimming in bottles often. Shots

of amber, glass waters clear as raindrops-

they’re not as sweet. I like when you’re bitter,

when you are hard to swallow. Makes it feel as

if you grab my throat and don’t let go. You love

to hurt me and that’s why I love you, you are

the only one who does it good– who makes me

feel alive. When I’m alone at night the

darkness crowds against me, but you, oh you

brush those demons off. You grab hold of me

and twirl, red threads spinning around us.

There’s not another lover quite as generous as







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