Intrusive

Lost eyes, without color, searching so pensively for what? Understanding? Compassion? Void? The euphoric release to drown inhibition in a body or bottle.

In too deep, and something crucial was lost. It had become immortalized in the glass of your drunk stare. I see that person. I see the wound that keeps you feral to bite the helper—the desire to cause pain to yourself. I can recognize these thoughts because they scurry across my mind sober.

It is my fault. I hope all these messages in bottles reach you. Though they wash up in your hangover, illegible and water stained. I do not know why I try; wading in the shallows of cheap intentions washed up in the cheap drink. It could be for my grandiose ego, or it could be that I truly am afraid of losing you. Whatever reason, I am a vessel for the other hurt widows now. May that cavity be a better home to their loverless webs, as it was never a kind place for my thoughts.