See, I thought I could lie to myself and be all hard on the inside. I wanted to pretend I had turned into a desert, all baked mud, dust, pebbles. What had happened was so many years ago. Even bitterness ends. Somehow, I ended up in your arms, pressed up against you, supple as seaweed. The first time I could blame the brandy. After that night, I wanted to throw a bottle. I wanted to punch you in the mouth or call you out your name. Now I’m wishin’ it was my name in your mouth. Or maybe my breath.