Stained red, glassy look, a giggle of a drunken warmth. The glass kept nearly full, atleast more than yours for the moments, the bottle finished on the floor left with nothing but the cork. It was a mission to drain it dry, in my system with it soaking in my blood. My cheeks flushed and my body held awkwardly against the window,what was between you and me and a stupid pillow, and who would of wondered that it’d be the last time of us, ever being us.
It wasn’t real sex, didn’t feel like it, with alcohol involved how can it?, a floppy pose, the lazy slurs, the lust filled smile, just wanted to fuck, and you knew I would do anything if pushed with the right buttons.
You knew so well, it was all meticulously played out.
It didn’t count, it seemed almost petty, you got me drunk so I could fuck you. I felt it, yet I faked it, and more than ever I should have
slept it. My burgandy tainted lips, no longer caring with what they sipped, it might have been better off if I had just stayed away.
All that’s left, is how much it’s all been tainted.