Challenge
Challenge of the Week CCXXXIII
Write a short poem about waking up in drunken regret. On this one, winner is decided by likes. Make it brutal. 25 big ones on the line. Go.
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regret
My phone remembers more of last night than I do
from a blend of blurry faces and bathroom floors
and a credit bar bill with a tab higher than I remember drinking
between the round of shots and my spiked lemonade
and the line of boys I was telling my name
and there were hands at my waist and lips at my neck
lost in a haze of drunken consent