I fill myself with noise.
bar music blasting,
and the way, the way you drape your legs.
but, but you couldn’t possibly know,
you wouldn’t want to know,
how that buzzes me.
I get drunker, and I tell you I don’t remember your name;
when I remember the texture of your skin,
the way you breathe in your sleep,
the shape of you in the darkness.
You laugh as I yell out random ones,
and you ask why I’m lying to you,
so I tell you I enjoy lying to you.
I enjoy all of you.
I don’t think I should,
but I do.
I get drunker still, and she comes up to hug me,
tells me it’s nice,
and I whisper
“if you ever want to try something different…“
she’s fifteen years my elder, and I don’t care,
I don’t care.
I don’t care.
I fill myself with noise.
