Been doing a lot of thinking..

When I woke up this morning
swollen faced and worry hearted,
lazily I pulled the covers over my head,
the way you do in the late afternoon when you are trying
to get me to come back to sleep with you.

Under there, away from the brightness of the day
and all of the birds busily chatting,
I could smell you, cinnamon and sweat.
Sometimes leftover vodka or whiskey
morning breath, cinnamon and sweat.
And I wanted you, instantly. I start salivating,
dampening, wriggling and writhing in the sheets
even though you tell me, "Fuck the sheet."

I cannot resist the thought of you
arguing vehemently with your professor,
a stranger, my friends, me.
Challenging and brooding when you lose at darts,
a drunken smile and too much weight leaning on my body,
so tiny in comparison to your height.

I want to be the cigarette between your long fingers,
sticking to your top lip as you inhale,
I want to be breathed into your lungs.
I long to be the vodka sliding down the back of your throat
stinging, sanitizing, killing anything bad inside you.
the friend you long for every day and night,
the state of mind you cannot resist.


(I cannot finish this, or anything. Ever.)