I see no numbers
hers is the only figure.
She's my addition.

As the party dies down
and the beer has been drunk
we sit on the couch and talk.
Her lips move
but her eyes speak.
I lose myself in their conversation.
Her fishnet covered leg finds me.
She doesn't move it and I'm glad.
"Why is the beer gone?"

Veins are mere highways.
Transit for blood from the heart,
heartache dispersal.

I hover over mountains
eroding them away
finding myself
in their glass foundation
eyes watering, nose running
like some sobbing child
my pride hurts from the sight
but then it hits
and the confidence flows
faster than the whiskey
had ever allowed

You are the last gulp of whiskey,
the drag that melts the filter,
the insatiable ache in my head the next day,
and the next, and the next, and the next.

Her quivering breath
is like five shots of whiskey-
intoxicating.

Trapped behind the bars
of a bare loose leaf prison
no key, just a pen.