The jagged, rusty edges of his broken heart matched his empty eyes and borrowed smile perfectly. The shards of that once vital organ pierced his every moment. The unrelenting torrent of memories chipped away at everything leaving him a patchwork of scotch-taped wishes glued with countless regrets and ready to fall apart in the slightest storm. Everyday everyone saw his life mix with the mostly-whiskey vomit that could not hope to purge enough of the seductive poison from his liver. He understood that his only warmth came from the bottle in his hand and his only peace came from the oblivion that went with it. He was bleeding out where no one could see. Not as quick as a knife across the wrist but just as effective.