I Never Used to Like Parties, but

by Isabel Lee Roden






I Never Used to Like Parties, but

I’m lying on the floor in a room with a couple of safe people who should probably know better

And we are tired, worn the fuck out

desperate for one sweet second of empty-headed luck


My roommate makes margaritas in the kitchen and I can almost imagine there aren’t consequences

to this two hour window of “I’ll deal with that later”

These days I’d do just about anything to get away with recklessness

I’d almost kill to nurse a hangover all day long

curl around my sick, sorry self in bed relish nausea’s presence like a lover’s too-balmy embrace What I wouldn’t give to lock eyes with someone beautiful

from across a room half-lit by smoke

and inhale them with the haze

I’d go sleepless for a week to go out wearing the kind of dress

I have to tug at the hem and neck of all night

I would spit in God’s face

without fear for one ill-advised kiss


God, I’m twenty-one isn’t saying that supposed to make me feel young?


There must be a young, selfish me screaming

I don’t want to know better anymore, but


does anyone feel young tonight?


I don’t want to be those people but

God, I’m only twenty-one God, I want to stop wishing and waiting to make mistakes

God, Aren’t I too young to be so tired?