The Anatomy of a Drunk Introverted Girl

When she’s drunk, there are no borders between
her and the person standing next to her,
her drunkenness shields the piercing cold,
intimacy isn’t a problem
it’s the only thing there is,
she no longer rests her hands together
rather they reach out for company
she no longer drifts off into the distance
because she wants to scream to everybody
how much she loves them
and then she will look back on this when she’s sober
and self-consciously wonder if she was
too overwhelming with her love,
because she usually tucks it away in a poem
she bombards you with how if there was a definition for perfection,
it would be the way you say hello,
and she would love to dance, but she’d much rather
talk about your dreams, she might even
cry, but it’s not out of sadness, no I promise you that,
it’s because she falls in love with everything,
like the bartender who is stressed about
something at home, if he even has a place
that he considers home, she then writes a note on the receipt,
telling him to smile,
when she’s sober, she sends love to the girl
who is self-conscious, she can tell by the way
she is adjusting one strand of hair;
when she’s drunk, she approaches her and
tells her that salvador dali once said,
“have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it”
she tells people to swallow their sadness
and spit back out their childhood silliness,
and as she is saying this, she is dancing
in the middle of an empty hallway,
singing you a song that she would normally
mumble to herself in the car, hoping you can’t hear her,
if drunkenness had a best friend,
it’d be bravery, she wonders if this is
what extroverts feel like
and everybody thinks
she is the life of the party, but she’s really
just a girl who collects books,
and writes about how much she loves you,

but then she stopped drinking,
and she discovered
she didn’t know how to tell people she loved them,
the breath before the words
was both the beginning and end of that sentence,
but in her head, she’s already formed a stanza
telling the story of how glistening stars float
in nearby streams, and that one of those stars
is you,
so if you think this poem is about you,
it is.

1 comment
  1. i think i can relate to this. :) beautifully done.

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