I take small steps with my arms wide, bouncing off the walls, making up for my knocking knees — aimlessly slurred footing. Don’t fucking mind me; I’ll crash here on your spare couch tonight, begging for spare hugs and kisses under the weather the rain patters against the window. Thunder drowns out your moans as you grip fistfuls of the sheets after your fingernails draw blood on my back. You get enough of me to slur your words, sleeping in my arms until morning cracks rays through the blinds, eyes opening to another headache.
(© 2022 AC)
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