so you used to hang like a pall
of some anxious heavy feeling
a grapevine whose final wine left
sour aftertastes post-intoxication, and
your hangovers were
the greatest, but I’m tired of feeling ill.
and now you still
do linger, yeah, I think I
smell your hair here and there
and remember when I stared into
those admiring eyes, and your hangover
I’m not totally over, but
I can only handle so much wine,
and I’m done drinking for a while.
