on quiet bitter nights like these
i get drunk on the memory of you--

i allow myself to get wasted in remembering.
to drink in all the foggy images
of you
sighing my name
asleep in my bed
your hands on my hips
it is intoxicating
and it burns down my throat

but still i pour myslef another glass
and it is strong
and smells like you

i allow myself to swallow your posion
on quiet bitter nights like these
in the hope that
i would wake up
with a headache
and you would be gone