it's not you,
precisely, that i'm attempting
to drink from my mind.
it's the
implication of you.
our bodies fit neatly,
face to collarbone, hands curled around
our fingers, legs crooked
into the spaces
behind our knees.
it's the hand on mine subtly, in stores, your touch on
my side - the signs of a connection, but also
the hesitation you have
regarding me.
the nothing
[something] we are[n't].
the implications of this. i'm
getting mixed up
about [in] you.
and so i’m drinking liquor mixed
to get it down faster,
and
strawing it like oxygen
until my vision starts to sparkle.
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