At a quarter past nine, the sheets unfurl themselves.
I curl to the warm body next to mine.
Just long enough to know she’s not waking up,
She evaporates as I reach for her hand.

I curl to any warm body next to mine –
Only a draft and the disease.
She evaporates as I reach for her hand.
Burnt coffee boils reflections of her.

Only a draft and the disease.
My head hangs heavy on a leash.
Burnt coffee boils reflections of her,
And 3am feels like drywall.

My head hangs heavy on a leash.
I talk to my therapist through a screen.
3am feels like drywall,
and it smells like stale bread at lunchtime.

I talk to my therapist through a screen.
I am sick in a different way.
It smells like stale bread at lunchtime.
There is no cure —just containment.

I am sick in a different way.
Beers in the fridge if I want them.
There is no cure – just containment.
**** in my top drawer if I’m bored.

Beers in the fridge if I want them.
I would be drinking alone.
**** in my top drawer if I’m bored.
I would be smoking alone.

I am drunk and alone.
At a quarter past nine, the sheets curl around me.
I am high and alone.
Just long enough to know she’s not waking up.