Amanda Sanchez

The waiting game drags on
burning down of each day
closer to cutting the snake out
ridding myself of Sunday sacrifices,
wasting my time
while he tries to make up
for the time he spent elsewhere
without me
the small talk that carries
on for hours. He chose the
drink over a relationship and I cannot forget it.
We sit
in a Chinese buffet, him drinking water, all I smell
is the vodka that ruined him
his mouth pours out drunken thoughts
while my thoughts want to go elsewhere
without him
just a man I am forced to see.