Literature
Vodka.
You were someone I briefly knew,
and for one flashing moment, I
completely understood the world
through your changing eyes; but
then you were gone, just another
lost teenager, drinking to die in
a cliche sort of way.
Darling, you were misunderstood
because you made yourself that
way, and you breathed in Ketel One
because you didn't know any other
way to live. Individuality is becoming
a fad now and you struggled to
follow the crowd; the irony never
seemed to slide into your glassy eyes.
Those nights when the darkness dragged
on and you passed around your cheap
warm wine, I smiled and declined, having
watched you enough t