Bottles litter the countertops,
Butts of cigarettes smoke from the ashtray,
Another drink, she'll be ready for action,
Tread carefully girl,
Don't go where you're not wanted.
Don't speak of moral things,
When vodka comes
And claims sensibility, and responsibility.
Don't react, when she calls you names,
And refuses to let you go,
And hide.
Don't let her see the tears,
When her hand flies out,
Against your cheek.
Hold your breath,
And bite your tongue,
When she insults the good people you know.
But when she's finally passed out on the floor,
Cover her with a blanket,
Pick up the bottles,
Empty the ashtrays,
Put an empty cup and Advil on the counter,
For her headache in the morning.
Be the good girl she wants,
Wipe away the night,
Don't bring it up again.
It's not her fault.
She's not that bad.
Even though you know the truth.
But she's sick.
She can't help herself.
Go silently to your room.
Close the door,
Wish once again that you had a lock,
Put on the earphones,
Blare the music,
Wait till it's background noise,
Noise to the buzzing in your head.
Caress the reddened cheek,
Begin to cry,
Quiet.
Don't wake anyone up.
Wait for tomorrow.
|
Submission Name: Rules to Survive One Drunken Home
