DRINKING GAME: take a shot every time a parked car conversation ends in tears and sounds like a wine glass hitting hardwood with too much force to be an accident.
DRINKING GAME: take a shot every time you wake up in a cold sweat because you had a dream where you loved someone that you shouldn’t have. or should have. or shouldn’t have. or-
DRINKING GAME: take a shot every time somebody asks me how you are and I lie about knowing the answer to that question because I never bothered to learn how to say your name followed by the word “gone.”
DRINKING GAME: take a shot every time you think about touching yourself. another shot if you don’t. another shot if you do but end up crying before you’ve finished. another shot if you can’t finish without thinking about their teeth on your earlobe like water on a grease fire, like red lights when you’re late.
DRINKING GAME: take a shot every time you lose your voice because this is the eleventh time you’ve listened to drops of jupiter within the last hour and the only volume that your vocal cords have when it comes to the words “did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?” is excruciatingly uncomfortable.
DRINKING GAME: take a shot every time you consider driving to the city, driving until the engine burns out, driving to a place that neither of you have ever been, driving until the part of you that still knows what they smells like in the late afternoon jumps out the passenger side door and doesn’t bother running after you.
DRINKING GAME: take a shot every time something seemingly insignificant brings you to your knees. the color red. batman cartoons. the soft drink aisle of the grocery store. warmth.
DRINKING GAME: take a shot every time you write another poem about them leaving and it doesn’t make you feel any better, it just reminds you of all the things that are still left to say.