Did the burning throat hurt less if it came from alcohol?
Or the lies sold like lemonade at garage sales
Was the taste of charred rubber and lemon skins
Bitter? Or was it sweet like candy
Lime and salt held to your lips
Like sandpaper on my cheek
Did the yellowed skin finally match your drink?
Like forbidden camouflage
Did the abandonment fill the space
And time between liquor store binges?
I begged you to take me shopping,
the smell of mint and cinnamon
covered the vinegar coated breath,
but I told you not to go shopping sober
when your aggression was stronger
than the taste of gasoline