Down in the Mouth

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


Your breath smells like cigarettes

And mine reeks of vomit

It seems self-destruction is something

We both have in common

Reaching for the bottle is muscle memory

Anything to mask the taste of the last kiss you gave me

Your hands suddenly unfamiliar

And made of broken glass

But I submit

And let you in

And pray for the moment to peacefully pass


Submitted: February 20, 2017

© Copyright 2021 EmmiAnnemarie. All rights reserved.

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E Bowshall

This is good stuff!

Fri, April 7th, 2017 10:03am

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