By the end of the night
not even friction
can help me
from slipping
(pale porcelain waiting for some company)

I hate it
The whole time
I think to myself,
never again, never again
(as I lean over his cold body)

But I close my eyes
and soon enough
it’s Friday again

So I reach into the cupboard for
a tall glass and
before I know it
there I am
(in that familiar awkward embrace)