Oh Pretty Girl

This piece originally appeared in Great Lake Review.

I was a drunken, drowned girl

lost in the sea

of plush pink pillows and white sheets

staring at you with my eyes lidded.

I only washed my face because

you told me not to

sleep in my makeup

that you loved so much.

How does your shirt fit me?

You press your hand into mine

as I reach out to you:

“Stay with me”

I slur,

and I can see the side of your lip turn upward

as your brows knit together

(I’m not that drunk).

The weeknd of poetry,

and I wonder if you know

the ocean of liquor

holds innumerable secrets

as we breathe onto each other.