by Chris Butler
I love her whenever I’m still sober,
but she only likes to fuck me when she’s drunk,
throwing my body overboard for her
from our relationship set sail then sunk.
Her kiss swirls my brain cells to succumb
to her moistened tongue, stimulating
my words to slur stumbling mumbles dumb
enough to forget her masturbating.
The other nights I long for her longer,
as she disappears in the red lit bars
to cuddle up with another lover,
only to return in a brand new car.
I know now the truth as to why she lies,
looking through her inebriated eyes.
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