I've never been very good at keeping them to myself. “I fell in love with you,” I said, “into a void.” “I don’t have time for this right now,” you said. "When will you do it?" I asked. “See you later,” you said, “over one of those whiskey glasses.” I danced around the edge of the whiskey bottle while gagging from inebriation and dehydration. “We should leave. I think one of the bartenders is falling in love with you," I said. "Would that be such a bad thing?" You asked. "For me, yes," I said. "Why?" You asked. You kissed a napkin, leaving every part of your mouth on paper, and handed it to the bartender with the pixie cut. “I never told you about the last time I had sex with someone other than you,” I said, “I felt my mother's shallow pools of shame as I did.” I lay naked next to them sucking their musk into my lungs. I never want to feel like this again.” Day 6: The Lady Killer “These fingers don't work like they used to either. This phone has a mind of its own impulse control; that's why my fingers keep fiddling with the buttons on your blouse or the buttons that control the lights