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.