Drink to Forget

'You're not going yet!'
you say, holding my coat -

an incredible strength in your
desire to share drunken
despair. But you refuse to break
this time. I won't stagger
around a club, drooling
at the tight tops, fighting
to the bar, spilling drinks. Muttered
apologies. Trouble saved up
for afterwards, cold air slapping
everyone into aggression, puking,
shouting in the streets. Slags,
lads, slappers, chavs, students,
mingling in the mess of escapism.
 
'I've got to go,' I say and add
an excuse: illness, girlfriend,
early work, whatever will do.

You hate me for leaving you,
Your eyes narrow over clenched fists;
For a second I think you’ll hit me.

But you won't remember this.