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Tuesday Night is Drink Night

by Megan Guimbellot

By the way...

I've held you and touched you and ran my lips across places that made you gasp.
And probably still do.

I've caused that look in your eyes that hints of things better left undone,
things that we always did anyway.
I'm sure you remember crawling into tumbled sheets around the time the sun would start painting her self-portrait outside your bedroom window.
I know what you feel like and what you taste like and how you smell when your skin is damp with your sweat
and my sweat
mixed together.

I could have sworn our skin poured out vodka those days
But it didn't
Resulting in hangovers, missed classed, and late arrivals into jobs we never really cared about anyway.

Lately I've heard that you are skipping work for someone else and you're waking up with her wrapped around you and tipping the bottle to her lips.

It does make me wonder if you look at her like you looked at me
and if she knows your weak spots
and uses them like I did
and when you'll stop meeting everyweekwithoutfail for drinks
and sex.

01/19/2010

Author's Note: I guess you'll bring her up in casual conversation eventually.

Posted on 01/19/2010
Copyright © 2024 Megan Guimbellot

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by V. Blake on 01/20/10 at 10:48 PM

I guess there is beauty in sadness. Or so your poem would have me believe. Even the author's note felt like part of the poem.

Posted by Mo Couts on 06/22/11 at 05:09 AM

Wow...I have to agree with Vince--the author's note felt like it was a part of the poem, too. Great read, nonetheless!

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