A thousand symphonies of liquor and a million sensations from love. I’ve written about both, stories of moments in which the world was weightless. My heart could float me above the midnight stars and my intoxicated laugh could carry me until the coming sunrise. And now have I realized that those symphonies were simply a facade and those sensations were only temporary, and the weightlessness of the world would then arise with such devastating morning glory. The headaches don’t go away, the scars don’t fade and the cold always comes back. And so yeah that liquoring love was freeing, it was blinding and refreshing, but like a quick toe dip into the ocean, that feeling washed away with the morning tide. Away with the ingested chemicals, the soft touch of your lips, and the sweet sounds of your whispers. The scars never left and the headaches never faded, but a temporary layer of your love made them weightless against me. The puddle of my heart, the braids within my brain and the hollowness in my gut had become nothing but a memory beside you. Slightly ironic. Because now you’re nothing but the same. And you’d think I can’t write about your warm, home-like skin, or your sleep soaked voice in the middle of the night, but it’s all I have left. I could write pages on pages, books on books, about those three words you tickled across my body. Those three words and what you were wearing, what you were drinking, even what you smelled like as it seeped through my senses at three in the morning. My fingers type faster than ever when I remember your intoxicating scent only inches from my melting heart, more intoxicating than the liquor roiling within us. But no matter how hard I try to travel back, close my eyes and smell you again, feel your hands against my skin, or hear those words spill from you, I’m reminded of that puddle drowning my insides again. That weaving fire within my brain convincing me of everything at once and nothing at all. And that hollowness in my gut that was once home to that bottle of wine we shared and the butterflies that accompanied it. But that liquoring love and that midnight flight is just a fever dream as my heart melts away.
