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  • Writer's pictureErin

Tequila Baby

The initial feeling of tequila burning the back of my throat was the same

feeling I got every time he kissed me.

The more I think about it,

the more I realize he never held my hand,

or kissed me,

or needed me unless we were drinking in the fraternity house garage.

He never touched me unless high in the bathroom.

At night when everything was dark and the world was asleep,

he’d roll to his side and pull me closer.

I’d feel his breath go down my neck,

and his chest move up and down.

I’d feel his arms wrap around my waist,

and the way he’d groan in his sleep from having a strange dream.

The smell of stale alcohol and marijuana on his breath when he kissed me would linger for hours as I tried my best to fall asleep.

The sober nights were the ones I forget mostly,

after trying to push them out of my brain.

The memories of lying in bed watching movies;

him answering texts, pushing me out of the view of his phone,

as if he didn’t want anyone to know I was the one in his bed.

More memories of him rolling to his side with his back to me,

and my back to him come to mind now.

There were some nights I’d lay on the opposite end of the bed

with my head away from him,

so I wasn’t in his way.

Because college love is different with a little bit of tequila,

right baby?


written in the garage of the Alpha Sig house in 2017



(Photo taken from Athens 2018)

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