Uncomfortable Poem by Malory Joyce

Am I uncomfortable
asking in your heavy stenched
whiskey breath,
leaning over my shoulder
with yesterdays clothes
contained of sweat covering cologne.

Am I uncomfortable
asking with your empty pack
there in hand,
off with your socks and shoes
with your feet on the coffee table
watching the news.

Am I uncomfortable
asking within your days of hygiene
laying and settling here,
because the bird baths wont do;
your body is sobbing
and the tears are leaking through.

I'm fine, fine, fine,

why should I be uncomfortable
as sarcasm is the secret behind my words
and only my mind will know.