Warm, safe, dependable.
I'll slip into the comfortable folds of this numbness,
vodka bite and carbonation to seal myself off from the chaos.
This sports bar,
packed with hazy, college boys
who want you, but won't look you in the eye.
High off of fleeting attention, I break away.
It's too humid in this desert
of barren conversation.
Encased in ice, the chilled night air drives me
to stumble down brick sidewalks alone
and make my way towards your home.
But you've been gone for months. The windows are dark.
I am as vacant as the apartment where we once loved.
Sobriety is reasonable and I've accepted your absence.
But free drinks from men who mean nothing
leave me missing you more than I should.
This dependency on the safety of your warm presence
never surfaces until I am out of my mind,
wandering dark streets and wishing myself anywhere else.
