"Let me make it up to you." She said the next day at work after leaving me wondering what I had to do to keep her attention set on me. You see, nobody has ever said no to me, you see. Nobody ever had the guts to stand me up I see now. That she really never changes, a year and a half she is still keeping me wondering...stuttering.

It's not the pain that brings me back, it's those words and how she puts them like a sonnet thats broken. She always loved broken things, Like the windshield, door, and my heart strings. The night the neighbors called the cops still rings..in my head...

On the nights I go home drunk, I go in through the back door to torture myself. I sit in the place where you nearly killed me and try to put those memories on the shelf. Like the vision I've had so many times before in my dreams. You're keen on your desires when you told me you'd slash my tires if I ever tried to get away. So I stayed. You preyed. On the little girl that fell in love with someone more reckless than her. You showed me things I never thought I'd do. And soon I was getting used to the idea of me and you. Together, forever. In that place on the sea bed floor. There's a door for davy jones locker. There's plenty of beer, I know its queer but you love your alcohol. More than you loved my country drawl. Or my face that you slapped at the bar that one time. I hung you on the cross for it and perhaps I shouldn't but its always the alcohol, that word I hate to rhyme with. But have had a lot of time with. Getting to know...you. I still text you, and you still want me. The voicemails I leave when I'm coming home are never an accident. Rather a reminder of the red tint you left on your hands where my blood used to be. You see, "I love you, kid." Will ring in my ears like the sirens that had to take you away. Because of the alcohol that consumed you. But one of these days I won't reply, "I love you too."