A Drunk Poem to the man that was my "This One"

It's 2am,
and I want to text you.

I'm more than a little drunk-
on both champagne and friendship-
so inhibitions are lowered.

but i won't.

I won't tear from you
the time you need to
h e a l
from whatever
w o u n d s
I dealt.
Or maybe the only one who dealt them was
y o u.

that might be the gin talking,
so i apologize.

why aren't things right?
why do you have to be such a noble bastard
and deny me
the self-sacrificing ways to which I am accustomed?

I would make my pyre
out of
y o u
and not shed a tear
should flames lick my skin
as long as
y o u
had lit the fire.