Drunk and choking
I’m drunk. Drunk from some mohito replica, at least supposed to be, but not really. I’m choking. Choking from the cigarette I took a drag from but not really. I’m drunk, I’m drunk from your touch, the way you skim your fingers ever so lightly across my cheekbone, how you look deep into my eyes as if you want what’s in my soul. I’m drunk, my head gets dizzy and I can’t think straight and a thousand smiles just come without me even wanting them to. I’m choking, I’m choking on tears when you hug me because I have never felt someone envelope my heart the way you do when you hug me.
I am drunk and I am choking and if this is bad for me I don’t ever want it to stop.