A poignant crush

The way you talk about love 

It sounds like the kind of wine that 

Always leaves you craving more, ever-so-carefully whispering 

The word addiction, but we all pretend we’ve never heard of it. 

And in hindsight, I never liked wine,

The last girl who handed me a glass

Forgot to mention the shard at the bottom

Cutting into me once I swallowed

A fish on a hook

Caught and released for the fun of it. 

But there’s something familiar about the way 

You talk about love

and it makes me miss

My own special burning alcohol 

The kind of fleeting pain 

That only hits you when you’re sober and alone

Like the love I’ve freely given

Was forever destined to hurt us both.

.

– and I understand how the blame falls onto us now

but how I wish you understood it too