Still if it hurts,
I’ll skip the puddles
and remember your scolding
voice telling me not to get wet.
Still if there is nowhere,
I will turn on the shower,
strip from what makes me warm,
stand in the pouring water,
and just think.
Did I have a party to go to?
Is this part of being hung over?
Was that liquor for somebody?
What is this feeling in my stomach?
Still if it hurts,
I’ll find a way to find you.
I will walk in the rain so I don’t park
in your driveway.
I’ll bring the ***** and wine.
Do you want glasses too?
What do I wear?
Should I wear heels and my little black
sequin dress?
Or just jeans?
How about both?
How about nothing? Naked is how I feel
when the wrong word slips out and the
night is destroyed.
That ***** was not opened last night.
I sat and waited for my ride, clocks just
do their job when people never do theirs.
Still if it hurts,
I stare out the window and have the cork opener
waiting at the top of the counter.
The time will come as soon as my
horrible language goes away.
It won’t.
Still if it hurts,
I’m done with you guys.
I can get drunk on my own and wear my dress
whenever, wherever, forever.