We get drunk, there's coke,
there's yokes,
there's drugs in abundance,
emotions pour out through
the broken dam, exploded
temporarily by big eyes,
slurred words, and a general,
overwhelming sense of well-being.

Euphoria brings euphoria,
I lie in your arms "just be with me."
You agree, it's easy,
almost beautiful.
We talk about how we've hurt eachother,
your brother, your ex, your roommate
we blame these people for our losses,
for our inability to just love eachother.

But then
sobriety
crippling and loud, the day is crisp,
lights are bright and suddenly
I am on an operating table.
You are brandishing an instrument —
a scalpel? Or a needle.
Are you stitching or cutting?
Your hand poised above my heart
we stare at eachother in silence.

You turn, your white coat swirls,
you leave.
But wait? Where are you going?
Is this love? Is it love? Is it?