you won’t even
remember any of this tomorrow
the advantages of
being so drunk
your hopeless
laments of love lost
and mourning in
grief over being dumped
declarations of
undying love for the woman
you otherwise say
you hate so much
but you’ll remember
you created a scene
and feel horrid
about it at lunch
and then you’ll
work magic in the kitchen
and come up with
something sublime
with a meal that’s
fit to feed the gods
you’ll apologize in
style
and while on your
fingers the smell
of the garlic you
peeled will still linger
we’ll make love
right here on the bed
stained with your
tears for her
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