They crunch as you walk in.
remember the taste of each,
different but of the same idea.
those broken bottles on the floor,
as I look up at you, unknowing.
This is,
this is the result,
of me left alone with a liquer cabinet.
The first broke on accident, a drop, slip of the fingers, or so I would say if I was sober.
The second was a dare, by myself to myself.
The third was ritual, a sacrifice to the gods that gave me more.
The fourth was habit,
and the fifth was ritual designed to summon you,
and it worked,
for here you are passing judgement–
on drunk me passed out on your floor.
I drank because it tasted good.
I drank because you weren’t here.
I drank because I wanted company.
I drank because drinks wanted company.
I drank because I was here.
Now there are broken bottles on the floor,
and I don’t mind,
and I don’t apologize.
