pouring out my heart
into your glass cup--
emotions ferment over time
soon you runneth over
drowning in a taste once sweet
to the ears,
a heart-healthy concoction of poetry
and lame jokes about "what"
once able to warm your body
now tastes bitter like a rotten cheese
of moldy frowns
stinging like shards of passive aggressive glass
in the back of your throat.

after everything is gone
I feel empty--
alone
like one of those cheap bottle's of tuesday night sauvignon blanc
discarded next to my bed--
swilled in under a half-hour
because taste is irrelevant--
just using it for dizzy forgetfulness
waiting in bed next to me
for the opportunity
to kiss me with puke breath
and wrap my head in tender aching nausea .
  
Feeling used as I drift off
into a series of hazy dreams
only to be forgotten in the morning.