Blood is not thicker than liquor,
I lament while refusing to celebrate your birthday.
This is the mark in the road, the crease in the map, where I trace the red line back to the beginning.
When I was small, you were the brightest star in the sky –
Illuminating, reflecting down upon everything that would go bump in the night
you’re one of the things that makes the sweat drip down the crevice in my back when I clench my eyes closed;
A fragment, a shell of the person,
that sat on the foot of my bed and whispered calming words until I believed them.
Blood is thicker than water,
But liquor is slicker.