This
is how you tell a story.

From the beginning
to
the end.

When you told her that you
liked her and wanted to hold
her soft lips.

To the moment
she smacks
the **** out of you,
and your face burns
with your heart.

Shaking hot fingers.
Shaking hot stomach.
Shaking hot lungs.
Shaking hot
veins
bubbling
with the beer
running through them
as the soft bed
lightens
under a new
lonely weight..

My fear is
of looking over and being
alone and drunk.