they say alcohol helps manifest your sincerest emotions. i’ve always considered you as an unbinding type, one who lets the city lights pass in a blur of sensations. your liberating aura was so different, so special to me — you were the only woman who could easily clear any fog of stress or any potency of fear. seeing you now with the wine whisking you away into a deep trance, much deeper than hell itself.. i conclude you as a stranger, miserable with eyeliner running down her face along with the tattered tears.
were you always like this? was everything just an act before last night when you broke my heart and cleaved out your own?