Drunken Beauty

It was a cool Friday night, sitting around a bonfire
the fire crackling, and the flames brighter than the stars.
With red solo cups in everyone's hands
and some with the truth slurring from their lips.
Phil and I sat close to one another,
whispering sweet words,
and his breath smelled of cheap bitter beer.
The tents filled the back yard, and some people
stumbled to their beds for the night.
I was the only one half decent enough to stay awake
and so I poked at the hot flames,
but suddenly the weak stick I held broke in pieces.
A sliver of wood slipped underneath my finger
and a drop of bright red blood formed
where it had entered. I dropped the stick and sat down.
In that moment, my world went black.
I'm not sure where I ended up, or with whom
where I slept, and why I had fainted.
All I can recall is awakening to the sweet smell
of Phil's cologne as I lied upon the cold earth.
His sweet soft full lips pressed against mine
and his warm breath separating mine.
I smiled as I opened eyes staring into his.
I reached for his face, and pulled him to me
and in that moment, I forgot that anything else mattered.