2011, you feel no different.
Maybe even worse.
It's interesting the way intoxicants bring out the worst in everyone and everything. New Years was completely saturated in them.
And the way alcohol tugs at the very things you've buried,
and how easily they resurface.
I only want to conquer myself.
But I found my old notebook of poetry.
And I suppose this isn't really a poem, just rambling.
Written 3 years ago.
Fragility is an acquired taste; (I was 14, so this title is excusable)
Ah, I see you around here too often these days
Filling your mouth with cold coffee, black
like the smoke from your cigarettes
polluting lost lungs
You always tried to be this fragile thing
broken and dead to the world
But I felt the warmth of those fingers,
the beat in your chest as I rested my head
And the dreams you whispered in your sleep,
they were enough to lift the deepest black.
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