What is it about drunkenness that
Sets us so wide apart, Charlie?
Your inebriation was foggy,
Soggy three-day-old-newspaper charm
And mine is the sad silence of a sadder hotel room.
I spilt water on
My favourite book and
I thought of the man that gifted me it
And his smile is getting harder to remember each day.
You, you and I,
We held on to the loosest of threads.
Our palms grew sweaty with
Fear and maybe we still have to
Learn what love is.
Is selfishness really that bad, Mr B?
Is it okay for me to want adoration
Even if it is sexist, objectifying, shameless
Mirthless adoration?
Loneliness feels like a dead spider's home
Collecting dust in a corner
I can't quite reach yet.
What is it about laughter that
Makes its remembrance so sad?
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