I wrapped my lips around the words
felt by my skeleton as it
washed up against the shore of this silver tongue;
drifting,
laying still on the bank of a river,
cracking open,
water swallowing it in shame.
It wasn’t supposed to go this far.
I watched your fingers list its way
around the empty neck of a brown bottle,
the fragility reminding us both
amount the damage of throwing stones
at houses made of glass.
I avoided your eyes
as I lifted my own bottle to my lips,
quenching the thirst of the calling demons
that scratched and clawed
the lining of my being.
Couldn’t let you witness
the poison as it forces it’s way out.
No matter how badly I needed to feel anchored,
I was better off, left to drown,
than to pull you under
the waves birthed by my lack of transparency.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I couldn’t look at you straight;
my eyes covered by the blurred goggles
of the alcohol consumed
seeing you only
through the gleaming vessels
wrenched in your palm.
This shouldn’t be happening.
I ordered another round,
unable to stand the spectrum cast
or the colours of truth
behind the conversations
The amber tint of the bottle
reflecting nothing, standing
as volatile and opaque as
the soul clinging to it.
I finished my beer,
let the backwash cast back,
from every thoughtless, selfish draft,
and forced it back.
“I have to go, I’m sorry.”
I left my money on the bar,
hoping it was enough to pay
our demons for the night.
