Through Fingers

While I puke through

  these calloused fingers

  I know you're up there watching,

  as the toilet hisses, the third time,

  & my throat stings like tasting

  Tequila, the first time.

  It's nothing like that night

  you kissed me on that couch

  so close to sleep.

  I'd trade my left arm & leg

  to feel that again, to hold

  you, my dear lover, & friend,

  in a bed, that was meant

  for just me, I still hear you

  breathing, as we fall asleep,

  in each other's arms.

  Is this how you imagined

  things would turn out?

  You forever young, & me drunk all alone

  writing about

  those few nights we spent

  truly alone,

  & together.

  Breathing in,

  eachother.

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