Does She Know, or Doesn't Care?

I drink, I've never thought that taking a sip would feel like releasing a toxic waste. Two years gone down the drain, and replaced for someone you say doesn't act like a saint. At least that's what I acted like, until you kissed me in different ways; ways that made me lie and pray that we wouldn't get caught in the act of our lustful ways. I know your cringing, I know your begging me to keep quiet; but I can't stop. I take another sip... another... and it only feels better than what I had sipped first. Remember that time in the car, staircase, and even in the park; Remember you told me you loved me and promised that we wouldn't stop? It's funny how one argument could break all your promises. Now you want to become the faithful man that you "always" been; was you entertaining her and did they push it onto existence? I mean they never liked me, they always hated my guts, so when they heard that you gave us up it was like a God's gift sent from above. I mean I wouldn't blame them, a black woman with dreams, and not the type to be okay with the label that the boss man envisioned me. Don't say that you loved me and you wanted to make this work, because if you did I wouldn't be sipping away and asking you if you still remembered.