When you were strung out and I kissed you I imagined your mouth a mound of cocaine, inhaling your breath like powder as I pushed into you and you pulled me with your bruised thighs. Some nights we fucked so slowly I dissolved like a Quaalude in a glass of vodka, and you drank me down. We kept the room dark, so we could not see each other with our eyes rolled back - or was it because we did not want to see ourselves. It's taken me too long to think of that, the way we never thought the other would go, and then one night I woke up sober and yes, still there.