Without alcohol, my eyes close, lips part.
My body, stiff and unsurprised.
My mind, anchored in the corner.
No longer tragic or unleashed, I lay my self on the sheets
and wait for the wildness
I listen and look at you. You expect a spouse,
an unschooled rival, but I am just here.
Sometimes I come close
to her, the woman I long to be still.
Be still, she says.
Continue. She whispers the word.
Without alcohol, I am the girl
who takes your coat. I float
but only slightly above the dirt.
You can wish for more – be sure,
I am only the one who could not leave or get away.
I am the one who tries,
who gets so close.
You are in the bedroom now, tugging at me.
This void or sleep like a furious stupor.
You need me to be present. You whisper the word
like you know how it hurts.
Continue. She is here now.