Bumped heads
and the embarrassed fall into you.
You smile politely and
wipe the hair out your lover’s face.
And she’ll look up at you and laugh
in some awkward drunken state.
Humming on about nothing.
Her veins run clear with vodka,
and the blood thickens around your throat;
I’ll choke over you.
But she wont need saving;
If there is no such thing.
She presses a warm hand against your chest,
If she was to mean it with every finger tip.
You could feel it melt. And everything would ease.
Except,
If you line up like soldiers
Your in the front line of a
Daily war over her;
Battling for the enemy.
But this perusal
Is more like lambs to the slaughter,
When her lie is his version of honesty.
You could over dose on this,
on liquor and a single promise
Never to give up.
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