Vodka and Orange Juice.

She fed me vodka and orange juice all night.
The camera appeared infront of us, letting the vodka take the picture.
The picture revealed my heavy eyes and drunken smile. Her tongue stuck out
and her eyes where wide and unfocused.
"Don’t worry, baby. You didn’t pick the wrong crowd to be with."
Her breath left the scent of smoke and rum in the air. It lingered infront of my nose for a while,
making me feel safe.
The rest of the night was full of more drunken photos and pool shots. She walked over
to me in the process of trips to the bar, and brushed my hair behind my ears each time,
as if she was looking for something.
"You just remember I’m a phone call away."
I lay on her sofa, sinking into the cushioning and letting the alcohol carry me into
my own reality.
The smell of cigarrettes, spilt booze and talk of menopausal sex soothed me into sleep.
I was safe here. She was just a phone call away.

The candle was the only source of light in the room.
My hands lit cigarrettes every unpreoccupied second they could collect, and my words came out
stammered and disconnected.
He offered me the joint, and his lips became closer to mine.
I wanted to say something, I wanted to kiss the lips I had left months before.
"I want to grow with you."
The words that came out of my mouth shocked me. I think it was still the alcohol talking.
Still her alcohol talking.
I think I was supposed to say that to her.