Drunk

The mixture of alcohol and blood
or is it the cocktail,
of ashes of memories and tears that spill.
Swaying and quivering fingers
that type out texts
snapping and sobering
write a prose,
never hit the send.
One glass to down the pride,
another face to take home tonight.
Slurry words, dimming lights,
same old face to haunt the mind.
One more unsent text in the tab tonight.

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