My pulse can’t seem to slow after our lips meet and when your lips start to taste of Jim beam I think, this is where I should quit. Being an alcoholics daughter was going to catch up with me at some point. Might as well let it take me now. So I let you grab me, press your drunken tasting lips to every piece of my flesh, claiming me like a lion claims its prey. Bruises on my neck are ones of pure dominance and unclaimed affection. Pent up emotions are laid on the line tonight but I can’t think too much when you have me like this, drunk on love and the Jim beam on your breath. I can’t think clearly when you whisper “I love you beautiful girl, you can sleep now, I’ll be here in the morning.”, because finally, the alcohol has set in and I sleep.