Down bad enough to ice the red wine

I’m on the floor
half drunk at noon
 
Merlot
with ice

A sin in wine world,
but it’s hot.
I want a cold drink.

Wine works
best for heartache.

Something about the way I
want to die after too much,
and how that feeling lingers…

yeah, that resonates
in my
stale bones
today.

I want to roll around in
my own shit,
my back against the
kitchen island
as my cat nudges my hand

I have a half full
bottle and an
empty heart

again

I think that’s
its natural state

I hit the back of my
head against the
island a few times
eyes closed as I
shuffle breaths
and try to deny tears,

my hand leaves the
cat and reaches for
the sign I must wear
around my neck

The one that wafts
my confident insecurity
like a pheromone
reeking of emotional
cunt-funk
under the noses
of men with shark teeth
and dead-promise eyes

I empty the bottle
and ignore the way
he made me cry
(again)

The world spins
and I blame the
shit feeling
on the day drinking
so I can hide in bed
and wait until
the feelings
go away

until my feelings
(for him)
go away


but fuck

do they

ever


go



away