Until the Morning Knows Our Name

I’ve been holding myself together
with bottles I promised I’d stop opening.
You know that.
You’ve seen it.
The shaking hands.
The long pauses.
The way I look past you when the night gets loud inside me.

I never drank to forget.
I drank because remembering was worse.

And I know you’re tired.
You don’t need to say it.
I feel it every time your voice hesitates
before you say my name.

You don’t have to save me.
You don’t have to fix any of this.
Just don’t leave me here
alone with the version of myself
I only meet in the dark.

Stay with me
while the burning in my chest settles.
Just long enough
for the storm to pass my ribs.

If you can’t stay forever,
stay for this minute.

I don’t want to drink tonight.
But I don’t know how to be sober
and be myself
at the same time.

So stay
just until I remember
how to breathe without drowning.