#143

I'm drunk...
again.

After the many times after
I promised myself no more,
once more,
I am not me.

But only then do I feel
like I could undo
the blanket off my back
and shed the covers hereafter—
the wings long ago unforegone.

I could fly
if I promise myself I could.

I don't know how,
but I think I would.

Ah!
To be
so free.

At last.

Let's just forget the hangover
that awaits the morning to come.

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