Empty bottles of vodka.
They used to be flutes of champagne,
Once.
An addiction,
Clothed in safety.
A nightmare disguised like,
My sweetest dreams.
Glitching that I am,
Now.
The vodka is making me stupid,
In the way fear can do.
Yet what worse could come?
You did what you had to-
Had?
Oh Sweet Jesus, the alcohol
Is definitely,
So definitely making me stupid now.
Since how long have you been planning this, though?
Laughing secretly with every kiss,
Why doesn't the alcohol bring me resolve?!
To this, shredded, tattered soul.
Empty promises of love
They used to be steeped with passion,
At least I now know,
FAKE.
But,
I still don't cry.
Aren't you worth my tears?
Am I afraid to face my fears?
That mist won't clear.
I feel like the villain,
Like the liar.
Is it the intoxication,
Or this heartbreak's hangover?
~Dishashree Swain
BINABASA MO ANG
Into The Black Hole
PoetrySometimes, pain becomes peace. Eureka! He's an oxymoron.It's been almost over eleven months; six months when it got way too critical, but I've been evolving and growing up out of it. It means much less to me now, and again, it keeps reminding me th...
