We used to sit and drown in our <br />sorrows and chase it with a bottle of whiskey <br />and the room would spin <br />like a washing machine <br />even though our. washing machine itself <br /> <br />was broken <br /> <br />and then she'd call me 'silly bear' <br />and then she'd rA.ke her nails <br />all down my back and I'd <br />look happily scourged <br />papercut thin seeping wounds <br /> <br />See she left because she was the one <br />that got away <br /> <br />or really she was the one that smashed <br />my face into the mirror and made me see <br /> <br />who i really was <br /> <br />and i think that hurts more<br /><br />Smack Thompson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bottle-rot/
