And as I pulled the half smoked cigarette from
behind your ear and
began to undress you for sleep
you woke, finally.
“I love you”,
pulling me closer,
you slurred.
“You're drunk”,
I turned away abandoning the task at hand
as you attempted to argue otherwise.
Sometimes when you tell me that
you think I'm pretty
it makes me want to cry.
You're always trying to break my heart.
©Emily E Johnson
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