spilt rum

preface: this is a hot mess - recently all my writings have been emotional rambles rather than carefully put together musings with structure and effective communication but...ah well!

spilt rum on the cement,

hidden by the large plant pots

and the forgiving dim of new moon,

It burned at the first sip

and left nothing but bitterness.

I had snuck into the drinks freezer,

and picked out the most pretentious

gothic lettering, white lace bottle

of rum,

to pour into my shaking glass.

I had only done this once before;

forsaken the trust between me and 

my apparent mother figure 

(but between you and me,

I believe she is more my landlady),

but it was not her face that saved me,

but my own, telling myself,

'you are better than this.'

I could sit here, and tell myself

how silly of me to crave the taste

of spirits, when I am still so so 

young, and this is only a matter of

puppy love.

did you fancy yourself an old soul?

jaded with years of wisdom, oh,

how naive you have been tonight.

and for whom?

for a girl who has found the first love

of her life, who loves her back.

and I, stand and watch.

if this was a matter of my youth,

then let me throw my tantrum,

let me shake and scream and throw

my toys on the floor,

I have lost my dearest treasure,

my only solace, my home is gone.

if you, my love, are reading this,

don't be mistaken;

losing you scorched the flesh,

but losing myself burned my bones white-hot -

so I will scream.

Author's Note

I dont really know what kind of feedback I want - but if its constructive ill gladly take it and work on it :) I feel like the main issue with this poem is just like the fact that its very existence is just a big ol vent lol. I promise more thought-out poems in future!