when she/he got drunk last night, she/he painted her/his toenails red

imagined it was your blood

he/she told me this, with slur and kisses (too many)

then her/his mother called, and he/she pretended to be sober, unsuccessfully

she/he told me about the red, and the blood, and then how he/she wasn’t a violent drunk at all

her/his mouth opened up and red poppies felt their way out into opiate parcels, and i was kissed again, and he/she decided that it was all okay

and for once

i believed her/him


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s