One Last Sip

I’m sitting here, back against the rough stones
Of the drama studio.
The bottle in my hand feels soft and cool.
Composed,
Unlike me.

You watch me, eyes wary,
Shoulders tense.
I am unpredictable,
And you know it.

I open my mouth to tell you,
Tell you - I don’t know what.
Emotion comes gushing out.
The truth,
Too awful to hear.
I close my ears.

My head on your shoulder is too heavy
You shrug it off
Shift so slightly
To the left.
I stay right.

You brush my hair
So slightly.
Sadly
Remorsefully.
I let the words slip through my teeth.

You slide the bottle from my fingers.
Take one last sip.

And leave.