Sunday

I meant one drink

but maybe you knew

that’s not what I really meant

maybe you knew that I meant

make me a fixture in your life

again.

I don’t care what you do with me,

where you put me

you can have me any way that

you would want me:

spine hung crooked on the bathroom wall

at least so I can watch you undone

in the morning

or

folded neatly in your dresser drawer

at least so I can still smell

you living

I meant one drink

but maybe you knew

that’s not what what I really

meant

maybe

you never even wrote me back

so I could just

mourn the loss of losing you

again

and again

and again

so I could just

let the loss fall heavy

into an empty glass

I don’t care what you do with me,

where you put me, you can have

me any way

that you would want me:

even if

that means never wanting

me again

even if that means

we still can’t be friends

even if

that means I am incapable of

ever accepting that this is the end—

you could have me

could have

me

could

have.