I’m drowning in the bottle.
Sitting on the bottom looking up.
With every pull taken from the bottle I’m closer to catching a breath.
I struggle to breathe as my lungs fill with gin.
I watch as the liquor run through her veins,
Making her forget her sin,
And her pains.
She takes another pull,
And the bottle I am drowning is less full.
I’m Closer to the surface, closer to air.
Liquid recklessness on her breath causing her not to care.
I’m glued to the bottom drowning in the bottle,
Watching the girl swallow and laugh through her sorrows.
Every swig she takes is bringing me closer to air.
I sit Looking up arms raised towards the top of the bottle,
Few breaths left to spare.
Now she’s starting to stumble,
Her words don’t sound quite right.
The gin is almost gone and I can feel air on my fingertips.
She pours the liquor down her throat one final time.
Finally I can breathe.
The girl drinking slurs and falls down.
She insists that she is fine.
The bottle is empty.
I am free.
I stand up to take a breath,
And see that the girl on the floor drinking is me.