one or two at the most, three i’m on the table, four beneath the host
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i watched your ancient father beat a man to death
while a dog had blood covered puppies
and a woman who was your wife
screamed at me for stealing cigarettes
i don’t want to but i have to quit you
knowing full well where this is headed
me crumpled on the floor like your armani shirt
and you on a plane remembering the taste
of a younger woman’s eagerness
just another night for you but for me
it’s another mistake
the kind that leaves me with a
black eye and a broken heart
no matter how often i’ve felt this
no matter how hardened i think i am
i always toss and turn and
drown in a thousand goodbyes