I know what you would say to me:
"At least I was thinking of you."
But all I can see through your texts
Are images of my past life.
Sitting alone in the humid
Air of Florida trying to drown
My tears in pool water as
His slurred words "I'm way too busy"
Mixed with a girl's giggling voice
Flooded my mind repeatedly.
Feeling nothing but numbed surprise
As my father's hand rushed towards me,
Bottles of wine on the table.
Seated at a restaurant as
My grandfather cried saying how
Much I look like my grandmother;
Same determination, same hope,
While refilling his martini.
I hear his dense voice on the phone.
He'll do it, he'll jump, but not if
I tell him that I adore him
And I'll stay with him forever,
Ended with the smashing of glass.
So please forgive me when I say
I'm not a fan of your drunk texts.