March 15, 2022
The Drunken Night
I remember neglecting the opening reception but wine
spoke to me louder than any other friend in the room.
A sip into the night pulled me from the possible intertwine
of my thoughts with words ––– I stayed quiet, the doom
of my secret indulgence into the skin of your neck, touching
your eyebrow instead of a kiss because we are just a pair of
people. I mixed red and white that night, I was clutching
the tablecloth as my laughter poisoned the room and soon –––
All of us were contaminated. Wide smiles from the wine,
I posed as a happy person too. I injected myself into a thought,
a plant of one. A closely read and precisely written love letter,
one that I wrote and rewrote multiple times because of the small,
black dots circling the words from the rings of tears falling
from my dead, sleep ridden eyes. Goodnight: the drunk will drink
the drunken night.
