Slurring All Your Words

You were slurring all your words,

not making any sense,

laughing at things that weren’t funny,

stumbling through sentences

like the ground kept shifting.

I watched the light in your eyes

flicker in and out,

like you were here,

but only halfway—

the rest of you drowning

in whatever you were trying to escape.

It wasn’t cute,

or wild,

or free.

It was the kind of broken

you pretend is a good time

until the room goes quiet

and you finally hear

how far you’ve fallen.

And maybe you didn’t notice,

but I did—

every cracked edge,

every swallowed feeling,

every truth you were too gone to say.

You weren’t making sense…

but the pain beneath it?

That part was loud.