The New Year comes and goes
Leaving ashes in its wake
A bitter memory matches the bitter vodka taste
Your hands were not the ones found on my back
Your teeth were not the ones biting my neck
There was not your gentle, careful grace in his actions
And why do I long for it when nothing of mine calls out to you?
My eyes do not peek at your soul
My hands do not trace your outline in satin sheets
Do I replace you with nicotine; the silent, ashen assassin
Yet I only let it in when my eyes do not see clearly and my limbs dance outwith my control
You call me reckless, riots made flesh, bones from dark chaos
And I swallow myself whole.