A Thursday Night

11:30 PM
I set my brown bag of groceries down.
Two bottles of the cheapest blood red wine they carry.
I slip my pocket knife out and pop open the first bottle.
Fuck you, you stubborn selfish asshole.
I mutter this to the only man in the room.
Blub blub blub
A dark red fills the cup
I take a sip and my shoulders seem to release all their build up tension
So I chug the remainder down.
12:40 AM
This song playing reminds me of you.
I wash the thought away with another drink
But I cant help not to wonder.
What are you doing? Who are you with? Who are you fucking?
I finish my glass and look over to see only an empty bottle.
Dont you fucking call her.
You dont need to be dragged back into that black hole of pain and misery.
She doesnt need your hurt and disease.
2:00 AM
The cup has become obsolete so I sip from the bottle.
Faces stare back at me on my screen fro a social media site I foolishly put my time into.
You all look so happy in your photos.
I call bullshit.
I can read beneath those faces and you never could trick me with that wilted smile.
I take another sip from the bottle only to have a drop reach my lips.
So I decide to stumble on to bed.
I am not here..
I am not here anymore...yet I feel myself dialing your number.
I want to yell at you. To tell you all this pain is your fault. To tell you I love you.
To break down...
"Hello this is..." Her voice-mail echos in my ear and I hang up.
1:00 PM
I open my eyes.
My head is aching and my mouth is dry.
A blue light flashes on my phone from a missed text.
"Did you call?" The screen shines at me.
I delete the text and roll back over.
Back over into the darkness of my pillow.