She was worth it.

The congregation of mourners
on the corner of obesity
next to the overslept days
and nights
and mornings
and afternoons
and nights again
With the jobs at that place that could take my hung over self and decrepit soul
that languished on the side of beauty
that men pined over in drunken stupors
at dive bars they had visited for ten plus years
but never saw an a*& as nice and young (in their drunkard state) as mine
so they could stick there horrid tales of ruptured disks and spines and spleens and minds and joints and live another day to let themselves into places other than me.
Yes, she was worth it.
Ever in excess alcoholic nights,
that I languished on the side of caution,
then bewilderment in the eyes of my colleagues the next morning.
She was worth it.

(this writing piece was someone else, I will be back soon)