Missing You, a Ritual

waking up to empty pizza boxes
and styrofoam cups piled on the table,
it smells of marlboros and amaretto,
through the dull haze of sleep and smoke,
still hanging in the air from last night's shindig,
I see someone thrown facedown on the bed
and two more wrapped around each other on the sofa.
I peel myself from the love seat,
where I slept without all the love,
merely left with the taste of margarita vomit
and a nasty hangover
that threatens to beat me black and blue,
I light another cigarette
and pour the remaining contents of alcohol down the drain
before taking out the garbage
where the world seems greener,
the air is much crisper,
cool and fluid around my movements,
I let out a puff of smoke, a gray cloud of reality
that reminds me how much better it'd be if you were here.