The Drugs are Quick

A Poem

Photo by Cynthia Smith on Unsplash

There were four of us,
When we first met —
Me and his mate awkward onlookers,
My friend doubly awkward,
Him, eagerly inviting us to the pub.

The second time we sat in the pub,
Much less awkward,
Laughs shared, drinks spilt,
Plans formed.

The third time, he insulted me
And it cut me, deep and slick,
And instead of tossing it back,
I kept my tongue in my mouth:
And blushed.