Don't I

It's funny how time moves. The hours seem to gather all at once. Huddle there on the nape of the night waiting for me to do something I never would. It's funny how half a beer seems emptier than none. When that saltwater chagrin coats my lips it feels just like sex used to. When I still had it. Lips wrapped around something hard. Full and ready to pop. Drench my tongue in lives undone.

I guess judged on bell a curve, this is still good compared to what I was. I'm still failing, but everything is. So we're passing because we're all lost.

I don't feel drunk. I never do anymore. By now it'd probably take an entire liquor store. I just feel somber. Like a funeral. All's quiet. All's dark. And there's a body waiting to be put into the ground.

I just feel introspective. But that's not the alcohol. I always do. Only now the target is clearer. The trigger much more eager.

It always tastes so much like hope once did. I tell myself it can't be wrong if it feels this good. I've always told myself that long before this was what I wanted.

Because happiness doesn't fool me anymore. And life was just a series of goodbyes. Each one harder than the last. Until this was the only friend I had.

Or if they tried to be, I was too afraid to know.

Don't I wear it well. This failure. This addiction. Or at least for now.

Don't you love me still, though I can't find it in my heart to believe you do. Don't you know I never could.

But I still attempt to with every last sip.

Don't I? Don't I deserve this?