Rainbow Of Drowning Poem by Cloe C

I drink my favorite Smirnoff
and work early and stay out late
because I am still a reckless teenager
and I smile through my mask.

I have stared down the kaleidoscope
of an empty bottle.
A monster pulled me through
grabbing at my throat to keep drinking.

Because I am better at drinking than thinking,
thinking about everyone of my relationships-
how I've been abused in every shape and color
and made myself bleed the same rainbow.

How my friends say things like-
'Its not abusive when he's never bruised you.'
'He turned 18 so it's not on his record anymore.'
'You could have left sooner.'

So I drink my favorite Buzzball
because I am still a reckless teenager
and it becomes easier to digest when I drink
and there's no cap on my mouth.

Preventing the oil spill to cover everything
in its iridescent irresistibility
burning to cover the scars from the fire
that consumes me whole just like I do.

So I swallow the sorrows
that snaked its way in through
the butterfly and dandelion filled fields
and turned it into a snake infestation.

Infesting my indigestion
filling it with the numbness of the burning
and making it keep yearning
for something that will never be filled.

So I empty my coin purse into a wishing well
and wish that I could feel more than this.
Wish that one day I will wake up and
forget the feeling of the bottle around my lips.

When I'm just trying to replace the feeling
of a warm embrace comforting my sobs.
So I drink a bottle of Malibu and picture myself on a beach with a hand instead of a bottle.

A hand that holds mine without hurting,
that knows it's limits and my triggers
and won't ever hold the trigger.
Instead it holds me through the hurricane

and washes and drowns the bottles away.
Instead it writes me notes to fill
the empty bottles and sends them in the sea
when the sea separates them from me.

It washes away the oil spills
and replaced it with clean water to fill
every space in the sea that separates us,
so I cannot remember the feeling of drinking.

Where I can finely feel drunk off life
and get the same euphoria
caressing a hand instead of a bottle.
And still getting the same blindness

that mixes every color into an oil canvass.
Where I am the centerpiece
and the fields behind me raise me higher
and the pigments are repainted lighter.