Aftertaste
Cynthia Malta
What is it about me lately that just doesn’t want to be sober?
I’ll find any excuse to get drunk and hope it kills everything inside.
I don’t puke,
I don’t wake up hungover or with regret,
I just wake up the same.
Brain dead, everything back to normal again.
Unsatisfied again.
I want to go further than I have before.
I know it isn’t safe.
Last time, 6 shots deep, and I could barely stop him from touching me.
My intentions were not sex that night, and I ran.
What irony there is in having control by intentionally losing control,
and doing so grandly.
I refuse to admit defeat, I still hate the taste,
but I’ll down everything in sight,
even if I said I hate tequila, maybe I’ve changed my mind.
I am not my father, not even close, but I’m beginning to understand him.
You can’t stay drunk forever, the real world still exists,
but the buzz will wear off eventually,
and then what will you do?
What will you have left?
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