Postcard From Munich

Seven shots of jäger and a message

to you from me left unread.

My head rests in my best friend’s lap,

My trachea raw with bile

as I try to breath through the pain of your indifference.

The window is open and cold

air drowns my lungs and stings

My eyes made red from crying.

She knows that you are why I’ve ended

up a puddle of gross affection,

and she hates you for it.

Hours pass and still my face is caked in makeup

made salty by my tears

and she has finally calmed me down.

I’m silent as I light a cigarette

and hang halfway out the hotel window

watching the sun begin to rise.

My head spinning I focus on the ash stained

into the window sill and I smile

knowing I’d left my mark on Munich,

just as you’ve left your dirty mark on me.