Drunk and lonely,
crying in the snow,
drunk and lonely,
the city blinking like it doesn’t know my name.
Everything I carried slipped--
from river to storm--
and I couldn’t hold myself together
long enough to stay dry.
They said the shoes were wrong.
They said I’d had too much.
By the third door
I knew I didn’t belong anywhere
that required standing still
and pretending I was fine.
My phone hums in my bag.
A small mercy.
Someone is coming.
Someone asked if I need anything--
as if needing is allowed,
as if wanting doesn’t make me fragile.
All I need right now is them.
And I’m sorry I got quiet again.
All I need right now is my friends,
or a hand on my shoulder,
or someone who doesn’t flinch
when I start to disappear.
The night guard looked past me.
I tried to explain,
but when the loneliness comes
it’s like the lights shut off inside.
I hate it when it gets dark inside.
I hate how fast I believe
I deserve it.
So all I need right now is my friends
who will love me
when I’m sad again,
when I’m heavy again,
when I don’t know how to ask
without apologizing.
I was smiling earlier--
I think.
I remember warmth,
I remember laughter in my mouth,
and then the cold turned sharp
and the wanting showed its teeth.
My phone hums again.
They’re on their way.
Suddenly the night loosens its grip.
Someone is thinking of me
at a bright corner store
that never sleeps.
All I wanted was to waste a little time,
spend a little money,
lean into someone
and let the world blur safely.
Instead I’m here,
drunk and lonely,
a girl folded into herself,
waiting for the moment
someone arrives
and the dark finally backs off.
RSS Feed
