wine dribbled over the top of the glass
when i slammed it down on the table,
i hadn't realized how strong i had become
when i was drunk, but it wasn't muscles forming
or armor tightening, it was simply inebriation
thawing the from the inside out, i wanted
to spill everything, including that wine.
the wine dried, forming little skins,
belonging to grapes on the wood table top...
reminded me of all the things i kept inside,
under scabs, where
the blood was running but couldn't make
contact and there i hid the things i so
desperately wanted to tell you; wine scabs
and drunken lullabies and a truancy of
relief that i was never relieved to have had
the very next morning.
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