do you love me?

she’d ask

always late at night & drunk

vodka bottle half gone

i’d say yes of course

any point of reason done

she never asked sober

having the truth already

our songs & music were

fucking sex & drinking

angry make up loving

making that over & done

parting in the morning

wondering if another night

might come

as sometimes

another lost soul

could catch hold of her

be a better listener

drinker fucker & lover

then they’d fade

she’d come back

no regrets no concern

be a better person

for a little while

until she too wore out

living strange

of the character

neither of us

had