I waited for you to come outside,
Like I had waited for you in bed.
My hand went numb from reaching,
As you sat and got drunk, instead.

I drink red wine now
by myself
but obviously not in the pathetic, lonely sort of way
or in the I-have-a-problem way,
I promise!
I put it in a glass and everything!
Just in the unwinding way
Sometimes... late at night...
It's nice
Sometimes... it helps me write...
God-awful poems  
you know, in the why-can't-I-forget-you way
but
I only drink in the evening hours
and the days aren't so bad
and
every day I fall more in love with myself
honestly, I do.
I do!
It's just a shame that doesn't make me fall out of love with you

And I feel like my poems are never long enough
even when my words are
dancing in my head
and then I get sleepy before they unlock
but that could be the fermented grapes
or the clock
as I continually realize
the knock on the door won't be you
anymore

so there's just me
...
and the wine
and the whining
and resigning  
and the pining
for what was never mine

And then it happened.
I came face to face with my ex.
Not much has changed from the last time we spoke.
When I was younger there use to be a sense of grief.
That somewhat odd feeling that overshadowed everything good in my life.
Suddenly watching the clouds go from bright white to a dull gray.
I hated thunderstorms back then.
I'd like to think that I've learned a lot sense then though.
Watching her eyeball me with a sense of curiosity.
Slowly learning the fact that I seemed to be doing a lot better without her.
You know those looks that reveal a lot without so much as a word being said.
She had plenty of those, often catching herself in mid sentence.
Her naturally low cut eyes now lower.
I wouldn't actually describe her as being a addition or nowhere close to a binge.
But more so one of those random nights you get hammered and wake up the next morning trying to figure out what happened.
No not at all. Again I am being modest.
If anything she was one of those drinks with a acquired taste.
The kind of drink someone offers you in attempt to try something new and though it tastes bad you still drink it out of generosity as it was a kind gesture.
Not at all stating that she was a bad person. No she was very sweet.
In fact I am glad that I had opportunity to bump into her again.
But a lot of time has elapsed sense then.
And seeing how time works I am no longer the same person.
Though I must admit,
First seeing her I was a bit puzzled, as those dark clouds that normally follow were nowhere to be seen.
Nor the crackling of a long drawn out bolt of lightening.
Both probably caught in traffic, Arguing over which came first.
If anything, she knew I had a high tolerance as far as drinks are concerned.
But again I am being corrigible.
Yet, this time I didn't miss the exit sign on my way out the door as normally I'd walk pass it twelve times, mistaking it for something else.
In a strange twist we neither dismissed each other nor omitted each others presence.
I walked out the door, while she was busy finishing what was left of her fiancee

Rushing.
Crashing.
Ocean fills my ears.
I'm stranded out here bobbin' with these others
after way too many beers.
Our ship started sinking
after parted ways and too much thinking.
We're all way too salty now
and all too soaked to swim to safety.

I've got
a notion, friend, to lay some blame
drop a few names, retreat again...
You are
a battleship, your big guns blaze
afloat on rage, bristling ardor.
      I'll calm you down, so dry me out
      or sink me now. We've spent enough
      on life.

Coughing.
Laughing.
Protests fill our ears.
It's frigid out here. Walking off these shudders
past the closing bars and jeers.
Boarded. Started singing
all our anthem cries from here to Longstaff.
"Land, **!" we cry sarcastically.
We're still too soaked to swim to safety.

*We've got
some way to walk, cover some ground.
pass a few blocks, we're lost & found.
The night
had shrunken down, contracted fast.
dark purple sky is bristling hoarfrost.
     We've warmed us up, so pull me out
      or sink me now. We've spent enough
      on life.

Sometimes my thoughts get the better of me.
Instead of being who we are, sometimes I wonder if we
were anything but who we are, who would we be. You know?
Would we still be destined to meet.
By some divine twist.
Would you happen to be the soda beside me and I were a set of lips.
Would purpose still play a big factor, knowing you'd
Be that essential thing that would fill this urge. Not because it would be just,
you know, something momentary just because it's there.
I'd never misuse you, 
Choosing to embrace you with the slightest touch.
The taste of something new, something refreshing.
Without fear that you'd be anything other than yourself.
Sweet, giving.
Hands wouldn't play apart of how much or how little you'd give
As I'd be grateful you thought enough of me to present yourself the way 
you have.
A clear bottle with red and white wrapping.
Lost in a ocean of dark brown

I drank to forget your face but somehow I still found you at the bottom of my glass.

you smoke too much
you drink too much
you cry too much
you laugh too much
you forget too much

but sometimes
you need a night
where you do everything
too much

Like an animal of the night, my wolf spirit chases,
An exquisite insanity, one in which I revel,
A slow prey with poisonous blood and sweat, with three faces
That, when caught, it whispers to me frailly, in hope to bedevil.

One face spits drunk and boiled spillage,
This one barks passionately without end.
The stock face of an accepted devilry, an advantage,
And an addictive **** that it lets out, a disadvantageous blend.

The other two look normal, but they rarely make sounds,
The deranged smoker is a thinker, a dying fool,
While the one in charge listens, teaches and knows,
While it fights with the other two.

The prey never runs away, but it sickly comes back to taunt my soul.
It tries to enthrall me with its black art, knowing my weaknesses by heart,
Sometimes I catch the prey, to which I whisper: “Feel my spit, black like a coal,
Never come back, you better hide, you haven’t seen yet my crazy part.”

And with a magical schism the prey splits
And hungry for adrenaline, my spirit chases them

I may be slightly merry
Or even pretty ******
You might even say I'm wellied
(I'm sure you get the jist!)
And I may now talk like thish-ish
And be completely off my ****
But I'll wish you a  merry Christmas
Because I love you guys to bits.