One more shot
before meeting the floor,
sinking into the hardwood.
Sweat from my skin,
spilled bourbon,
and tears all come together.
The room moves
as I lay still, and your face
somehow evident in my mind.
So, erasure, impossible,
dark liquor, reliable,
and misery,
eternal.
Jenna Restel is a New Jersey based writer. She explores grief, memory, trauma and bad habits. You may find her published poetry in Keeping the Flame Alive, Bionik Pu$$y, Rust Belt Press, Crying Heart Press, and more.
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