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Troye Sivan

"I'll take three shots of your strongest," I mumble, not bothering to look up as I sit down looking sad in the booth.

"Right up," I hear a woman speak softly, touching my shoulder as I spread my arms across the table and lean my head down, sat in defeat.

I just broke my heart right back in place, how else would I be sat?

It's just, I used to be so scared, so scared you'd go. Now I'm replacing your lips with bottles and heartbreak, telling you not to bother to show. Will I always be this heartbroken? It's the point in realising it Will Never Stop. I'm so tired of wishing things would get better.

"Here, sweetie." I hear the woman set three shot glasses down, sniffling in return.

I sit up a little and down the hard liquor, wincing at the taste. Not bothering to hide my tears in the lonesome bar, I cry and drink my medicine, hoping it will heal all the damage I've done.

Paying my bill and wiping my tears, I walk ten miles home barefoot, pain shooting through my chest. I get home to Denise's questions and sulk as I relate her to my old friend Margret. After I get her off my back I head straight to bed and lay down, pulling my duvet around my body and staring out at the moon through my little window. She looks so pretty tonight, just tonight.

In a sleep induced high, I close my eyes and imagine your lips against mine, pulling me closer and pressing your warm body against mine.

You tell me to hush, don't be scared, this love is only for tonight. I think back to that sip on my lips and the treasure of your kiss, lost in a world of intimacy. As we lay down together and climb each other's bodies, lips everywhere as we search for a stronger show of love. Those all too familiar hands and lips touch tips with my being, the two of us all too soon tangled in the sheets, moaning out each other's names.

I open my eyes and am faced with regret and guilt, you being nowhere to be found. You're just a blurry image painted in my brain. Maybe that's all you'll ever be.

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