She did not love me before wine convinced her otherwise. She embraced me from behind. She quivered. I turned and yearned. I trembled. Her lascivious blue iris recognized my sobriety. She fluttered by.
After the lights had been shut off, and the sounds were laid to rest, I inhaled the chronic and drifted off to a chilling dive in the sky's baby blue reflection. Asleep I agreed that I would have struck her hair behind her ears if I had been drunk.