Natalia curses me out
when she consumes wine
like a sailor stumbling
out of her mind.
She never says what about,
only that she can’t stand life
with or without me.
The distance that I’ve wedged
between us unraveled
the trapped that I set before myself.
I, in our new home, was too busy
with everything else.
I didn’t think of anyone
other than myself.
I didn’t think of Natalia.
We lived together for five years,
but I didn’t see her,
not the way that I’d promised to.
We met at a gas station of all places.
I needed gas,
and she needed to borrow a phone.
I moved to the sofa,
and I sank into the cushions.
I brainwashed memories
with a match of dismay
to control my kindled frustration.
My vulnerability spreads across
the floor like blood everywhere.
Natalia paced before me,
sipping wine.
Her words were few,
but her eyes filled in the blanks.
Natalia toked on a pipe,
blowing me a contact high
with her alluring gaze, pulling me in.
I’m high, but I keep weighing
my thoughts down and drowning
my patients in a lake of regret.
We exchanged apologies
and promised to communicate
in the future.
And now, we can’t stand life
without each other.