i carried a bottle to the door. Left the book that was mine now in his car. He'd
keep me safe, he was my dd. I am too afraid of cars manned by inhibited drivers.
He'd keep me safe.
In the house. More people showed up.
people opened that bottle i had.
My first shot was out of a measuring cup.
My second straight from the bottle.
The third I spilled some on my chest and called myself an *******.
Fourth from the bottle. Elliot said he was proud of me. The tequila in me impressed him.
They said I should stop.
I took a fifth.
He was playing chess on the black leather couch so I joined him.
I couldn't focus on the chess pieces.
I curled into him
my legs over his my arms curled in.
I could focus on his fingers tracing doodles on the soft skin on the back of my arm
The lazy pattern burning into my psyche. Staining it red like blackberries on a white sundress.

I felt safe with him.
I hadn't felt taken care of in too long.
I feel safe with him.

And even though i was drunk and even though he's still getting over her
I can feel something with him, like there's a future somewhere in there.

If I hadn't had to leave, if he wasn't safe and sober with me,
things would have gone differently.

Instead of being hounded for trying I'd be scorned for doing.
I know that full well