let my heart live

take a dare and don't regret

She smells like bergamot and gunpowder
Like roses and cigarettes
Her eyes are grey from the storm behind them
but she keeps a layer of saccharine sweetness over them
Hiding her broken mind is an easy game for her
“Too much practice smiling” she says
When she smiles in drunken sincerity
Her crooked teeth look even more lovable
Her hopes and wishes and dreams
become more believable to her
Her messy obsidian hair looks like
the tresses of the languishing poet’s muse
She can see what I see
only ever in her boozy haze
I think her new game should be to feel drunk
without the hangover
Because while she shines every moment in my eyes
She can never shine in her own without an emptied glass in her hand

—Thoughts: stay drunk, my love