Lock me in among the coats
and empty hangers -
away from siren song
of liquor bottles.
I want to blame Emily
for the way my hands shake -
I can't sleep -
and the things just below my skin.
Oh, God -
my skin, the liquor,
god, I want someone else to blame.
But, it was me.
I killed myself in the bottom of a bottle -
drowned in a shot of gin
and all this fucking self pity.
How can I forgive her for the things she did
when I am unforgiven?







best of luck in the contest. be well and be blessed

16 old applause
