I started to write about him, but then I erased it.
It's like ripping a photo,
turning a page,
extinguishing a flame.
He's had predecessors - boys with shining eyes and razor sharp tongues - perfect for cutting someone down. Perfect for ripping hearts to shreds. Except, I wrote so much about those guys, but then again, that's before I met Booze.
Some may say I drank my pain away. Truthfully, I drank to forget. For those bubbly, intoxicated hours and nights, I was happy. I had my friends and pretty dresses. Sometimes afterwards, I'd go about my day as usual - and other days, most days, I hurt.
My head. My stomach.
Mix two bottles of beer,
three shooters,
one Jameson and ginger,
and a broken heart.
Shake.
Stir.
Generally agitate.

Yeah, sometimes I drank my pain away -
knowing full well I'd later flush it away.