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Sheets

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One, just one more drink!
We’ve got all night, just one more.
It tastes like candy.

Lies, complete bullshit,
I can taste the alcohol,
burns my throat like fire.

Again, again! Here.
I don’t want it, but then I do
because I want to.

I want the numbness
of alcohol in my veins
moving my body.

Not in my right mind:
no responsibility,
illicit freedom.

Let’s go to bed now.
Okay, it’s all I can say.
The beds feel like clouds.

It’s hot, sweaty, and stuffed.
Pulled closer to his body,
I don’t want to move.

Hands hunt, search, caress…
I want it but then I don’t.
Lips, breasts, thighs, face, ass…

No more, I don’t; won’t!
I leave the bed, my head clear.
The alcohol gone.

Stop, come back to bed.
I’m sorry, come back my love.
Bullshit, I’m leaving.

The moisture of night
gives me a headache and chills.
I need to get sleep.

Sit down on the curb,
I call home, come get me please.
Ready, for the end…

If only I did,
but instead I said nothing
and I lay in bed.

Mixed in dirty sheets,
legs twisted, hands locked, lips shut.
Here it is. Here, now.

Morphine, Novacane:
paralyzed, unfeeling; gone,
everything and more.

I love you he says.
Lies, I say but still don’t move.
I’m not lying to you

You’re lying and I’m lying
to myself. I am not happy.
I am frail, weak, needy

Frail from the booze,
weak from my lack of esteem,
needy for the touch.

What I did not need
was his voice haunting my night:
I love you… love you…

Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies!
He, me, we are all lying!
Lying in dirty sheets.





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