On a Certain Cocktail
 
That ginger-lime scent
that sticks on your clothes,
your sweat,
your cheeks
that I always want brushed up
against my own,
whether through the accident
within a daily embrace,
or the times I fall asleep
tactically creased within your arms.
 
The tang of your mouth
seeping sweet beer and
that earthy after taste of cigarettes,
how it is soothing
whenever it reaches my lips,
rendering all brands of reprieve.
 
All this, a honey fabrication,
like the perfect mix
of almonds and apricots
in a hundred glasses of amaretto,
 
I soak in
all of your details
 
that so readily blend
with mine.

kevinantiga:

I hate your big, beady eyes. I hate the way you taste. I hate the smell of your hair. I hate your body and the way it cried for an embrace. I hate your complexion for being as pristine and white like a pearl. I hate how you manage to resurface into my consciousness at random moments. 

I guess regret only comes when I realize that I only had you for one night and that we had to spend it drinking beer with friends. We could have spent it being alone in bed or on the couch just fucking or talking. I hope we didn’t let the world matter that night.

But you’re just crazy and clingy and charming and you adored an ungrateful boy. And I will always love you for making me feel alive. 

Thanks for letting me be a part of your Life, even for a night.

Double reblog, yes. 

(via stubbyboardman)