Hipflasks fill our pockets as do our memories
In this dim light this is how our limbs shake
Loose change and lighters spread out on the bed sheets
Spell out my name and scream it at the ceiling
For the love of god just look at me clutch me by the
shirt and call the witch doctor
In need of a medic urgently as I’ve played into my own
cliché
Scrapbooks laced with Polaroid’s kept under lock and key
Turn back the bed sheets the lies have left stains we
love to deny
Our embrace brittle and unassured, touch the portrait
faint and in need
Hipflasks fill our pockets as do our memories
In this dim light this is how our limbs shake