In a shot glass
First drop. You ask for her name. Not her mask, her name.
Second drop. It creeps at the edge of your lips. This name that you taste but never say.
Sip. It burns your tongue, this name. A scar you can always taste.
Gulp. You ask for her voice. Not her face, her voice. It echoes in the shell of your ear.
Swallow. You ask for her face. The face behind the name. To swallow her whole. To be whole.
Spit. But. It burns. She burns.
Cough. So you leave her.
Cough. Among the others. Among the other empty glasses.
Posted Jun 4, 2022, 1:53 PM UTC
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