Saturday, 2AM (First Draft)

I wish
I was everything you deserved.

“Sorry, did you say something?”
Amber, fatigued, muddied from too much vodka,
said, “Bum a cigarette?”
Nelson squinted at her. “You hate smoking.”
Amber shrugged and leaned into Joren, her lover’s, breast,
breathing in his pot-saturated t-shirt
Joren…

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