Melancholy

Loneliness is powerful.
It makes you do things that are regrettable and stupid,
like drinking until you upheave,
like wishing for sex from that one person who you know you can never have.

Loneliness is convincing.
You pleasure yourself to the image of the one,
you look around the environment with drunk eyes,
realizing that the only being occupying it is you and the devil on your shoulder.

Loneliness is unyielding.
It haunts your sex dreams
and plagues your vodka, making it a drink of poison
instead of a drink to forget.

Perhaps my drunk mind will forget this level of solemnness by morning,
or perhaps the vodka has made me see the truth:
that I am truly, wholly, completely, unforgettably,
Alone.