I was looking for you late at night
couldn’t sleep, that single drink
sitting heavy, breathing labored.

Face Flushed I thought my god
why are you still there, did I really
almost call and tell you to come?

And was it the drink really?
or the world and years of living
that sits on my soul?

Was it the drink or is it the offering?
That false thing any other
on your long list would take.

That thing I want for itself and
the myriad connotations it brings?
thoughts of it quelching fires,

the burying of knowing
I’m not where I want to be,
skin, not just any but yours.

I swear I almost called,
asked you to come.