Heineken Bottles

She had eyes the color of Heineken bottles. That shade of green that made me woozy and sent me reeling back into dark nights and rough mornings. Little did I know, that was all she would have in store for me. In the end, Heineken ended up being cheaper, and safe to say, it did less damage in the long run.

She was like that first cigarette. Burning and inviting delirium. She was addictive and hazardous. We hit the filter, and a I chucked her away.

Vodka let me remember her hair. That was it. Vodka smothered the rest of the details and kept them from me, clamping it’s memory crippling fingers around my brain and telling it that there wasn’t any room for anything that you couldn’t pour over rocks.

I started getting the shakes in the mornings. Screwdrivers with my pancakes. I thought about stopping a couple of times. I looked around the room and could only see helplessness. The feeling of not being able to stop slathered all over everything.

She is a beacon of hope. She pulls me back from the edge. She is better than all of the others. She is worth it. She is the bright light at the end of the tunnel. I’d crawl over all the broken shards of every bottle I’d ever drank. For her.

I hope for happy endings.


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