It reminded me
of every other time I smelled alcohol on the lips of a boy.
Whether by choice or submission or forceful aggression,
they came at me. Again and again, repeating deja vu,
until I had to say "no more for me, thanks. you can finish mine."
But this time, it was different, yet the smell still permeated
my soul with sour familiarity that screamed: THIS IS A SPIRAL
AND HERE YOU ARE AGAIN; SAME PLACE, ONE LEVEL DEEPER.
And it's no small feat to release the sob story because it is your identity.
I'm not really sure who I was before all that and I'm not really too sure
who I am now.
And you? You are transitioning too.
I can see it from your sketchbook and the way you draw bridges over graveyards
and roads leading to nowhere - you are ready to move on.
The time before you is fading into nothingness. The boy I thought was forever has been never for some time now and the girl who I paid homage to through clever internet passwords has been replaced by odes to our future children and the date of the day you asked me to be your girlfriend.
Things are changing.
And it came from a beer on New Year's Eve, but I can't help but think of the time five years ago that night when I drank until I was bored and then let my boyfriend at the time fuck me because he was bad at it and needed practice and my friend threw a hissy fit in the living room of the apartment I was living in with that girl, Callie the crackhead, because I was busy having sex and consequently the whole night was getting lame. And I had to wonder, why did she think I let him fuck me in the first place? I wasn't having any more fun than she was.
Five years ago.
And it's that damn spiral that keeps screwing me over,
here I am again - same place, one level deeper.
I crave to release, yet I'm all too aware of the pattern.
When am I going to stop Googling the names of people
I shouldn't care about anymore?
It's a temptation that's not all that easy to resist.
But that was before you.
At midnight you kissed me, 5% alcohol in your saliva,
and I felt love in my heart despite your bad breath.
Maybe this year,
I'll let it all go.