Only when she drank would she think of you.  So she dove deeper, to the very bottom of the bottle, just to reach every essence of you.  

With each sip she knew she could find you, feel you, love you. Late nights, soft music,  glass in hand,  refills, as many as it takes,  that was her time with you.

Many deemed her an alcoholic, but the help didn’t seem to work.  Addicted,  she was, to alcohol…not so much.