You’re awfully talkative when you drink too much.
         Painfully silent when you are not.
Why can’t you talk to me without it?
         Resentfully. Am I that woeful to be
         around?
Apologise again.
                                             You didn’t even
                                               acknowledge  
                                        what you did wrong.
Blissfully unaware of your own mistakes
                               or rather
         Blissfully unaware of my existence.