i look into the bottom of my plastic cup;
the one stained with lipstick on the rim and beer foam oozing down the sides
and suddenly i don’t hate you as much as i thought i did.
i begin to love you
to want all of you
but i never knew what love really was
because when it was your turn to drink just to feel,
and you had suddenly begun to feel the same as me,
i realized that i definitely never knew what love was.
i just knew what wanting something bad for you truly felt like
and wanting it so bad felt so **** good
and wrong
but also right, in some kind of ****** up way.
and it felt like cheap beer,
and heartbreak,
and nothing past what happened secretly in your room between us
and the ever familiar sheets.
because when the cup is empty
and the keg is tapped
we slowly swim out of our muddied minds
and pry ourselves away from each other’s hot sticky bodies.
and i don’t stay.
i shrug on my clothes and bite my lip
all to not kiss you goodbye
and i leave that room that smells like bad decisions,
and finally know...
finally realize,
drunk love is always deeper than it actually is,
and what it truly is behind my romanticizing heart
is that it’s nothing.
it’s nothing but a few minutes of ecstasy
and you will still feel the same about me when you’re sober.
you will still need a few drinks to feel the way i felt.
so i don’t love you, right?
i drunk love you, and nothing more.
you’ve made that clear.
so my drunk love is a sinking boat,
and here i am again
drowning in my beer.