The scent of vanilla shampoo filled his sheets.

Her fuzzy pajama shorts lie on the chair.

He drinks his whiskey, in hopes for the day she comes back.

Safely into his arms. Yet, only realizes she drew her last breath just last week.

The turtle ice cream remains in the freezer, just half eaten.

He sobs quietly as he continues to drink his whiskey.

Hoping for her arrival.

If you find yourself dumped by some jerk of a guy don't you cry. Instead, draw a hot bath filled with bubbles. Soak. Relieving stress with lilacs and vanilla shampoo. Two shots of whiskey with turtle ice cream chaser cleanse his memories away. Once you have become a prune wrap yourself in fuzzy pajamas. Crawl into bed. Surrounding yourself in fluffy warm comfort. And fall asleep to your favorite tunes that he never let you listen to. And in the morning find yourself renewed with a massage and new hair-do.

There are a lot of things you'll miss about your childhood when you grow up.

Things like the vanilla scented shampoo your mom would buy you. And the turtle ice cream your dad would bring home on hot summer days.

As much as you try, you can never really go back to how those moments felt. You can try to relive them and buy those things for yourself but it just isn't as sweet as before.

So for now, I'll put on my fuzzy pajama shorts in hopes of feeling young again. But this time instead of kool-aid, I'll be pouring myself whiskey.

"Case!"

You start slightly when your older brother shouts your name from upstairs, and you glance up at the doorway with a frown. The sight you're greeted with makes you snicker, though: Cecil's wearing a pair of fuzzy pajama shorts YOU got for Christmas - a dark grey color dotted with little cream snowflakes - and his old Winter Soldier thermal shirt. Two black ceramic bowls of turtle ice cream are balanced in one arm, a bottle of rum-whiskey in the hand of the other. Hey, he knows what a girl likes.

"ANIMES!" you both shout simultaneously, the same delight in your denim-blue eyes as his icy ones. He scampers down the stairs as you sprint to the raggedy brown couch in front of your TV. Scooping up the remote, you jab the power button as your brother flops down next to you, and you both whoop with giddy excitement as "Gurren Lagann" starts playing. Cecil wraps an arm around you and hands you a bowl of ice cream as you slump against his chest. Smells like he used your vanilla shampoo again. But you don't mind, as long as he lets you use his Wolfthorn Old Spice wash. Smells damn good, tell ya what.

Both content, the two of you relax and rejoice as you watch animes well into the wee morn. And you couldn't be happier.

I drown my self in whiskey

I soon will forget

All the pain you left me

And your sweet scent

Your vanilla shampoo

Still sits in my shower

And is left as a reminder

A reminder of what could've been

Those fuzzy pajama shorts

The ones you gave me

lay in the trash

Along with photographs

Of the day we made ice cream

Our cute little designs

I made turtle ice cream

While you made a blob

Our smiles vibrant

Our eyes bright

If only we remained that way

Happy and in love

But you never were

And I'm left here

Escaping my misery

I sighed to my pet turtle, as I worked the vanilla shampoo into my hair. He's an odd turtle, and he loved to shower with me. Ok, that sounded wrong. Despite a slight smile escaping my lips, I was still drowned in sorrow. I cried as I thought of the break up, over simple ice cream. Well, an Ice Cream Social. But he never would have argued over the 'simple ice cream' if it hadn't been for the whiskey. Whiskey can do that to people. I sobbed further as I snuggled into to my soft, comforting PJ shorts. Why? Why did he ever want to take her to it? I know she's prettier, but what happened to a personality? As I climbed into bed, I wrapped my warm blankets around me and hoped tomorrow would be better.