Venus Dejected

She was fucked up when I saw her sitting at the bar.
I could see her eyes flash with awareness when she
noticed it was me.  She slurred, "H e y, i t 's y o u!"
as she turned and placed her arms around me. I"d
never seen her so sloppy so early in the evening. I
couldn't see her with anyone. Just a broken-hearted
angel slumming it on a barstool with a drink resting
on the counter. I put my arms around her and felt
the scent of alcohol rise to my senses with no effort.
She said things had been a little rough but that she
was alright. Her boyfriend had broken up with her
recently, or perhaps it was the other way around.

I stopped keeping track of her relationships after
a while. I wanted to be one of them once. She put
me down gently, nor have I forgotten it. I can still
see the dress she was wearing the night I took her
out. I've never been one for fashion but I was made
greatly aware of my stylistic shortcomings that night.

It took her a moment to find her footing when she
stood. Her tight white shirt revealed the form of her
curves, normally perfectly proportioned, widening
out past their usual places. The corners of her eyes
were dams ready to burst, ready to overrun irises
that spoke of experience and secret oaths uttered
during frenzied reminders of the present.

I told her it was great seeing her, that it had been
too long. It had. I needed to get my things from
the car. She sat back down onto the stool. I made
sure she was safely settled before I walked out.
Our other friends were minutes away. I stepped
through the doors and stood there for a moment.
Cars rushed by and the air felt colder than usual.