anklebones
new year's eve. goddammit, that was a long time ago. but really, it was also the last time i actually celebrated something, when there was something worth celebrating. new beginnings. graves dug up to be filled with new dirt.
i taste bitter like you. there's something hot in my throat, singeing my vocal cords (vocal chords) and it's just dying to get out. i want to set a few fires. i want to dig a few graves.
I remember drinking Maker's Mark the first time. It felt so warm. The next time I drank was with you--that vodka that was flavored like whipped cream. I miss you. I miss weed and alcohol burning my insides into warmth. I miss you.
I love how you look when you're laughing so hard at your friends, at me and my lame jokes, at the world. I love those lines around your eyes and the dimples in your cheeks. But our lines are parallel.