Whenever I went to late night parties, somehow I would end up sitting somewhere along a wall or by myself on the couch with an unopened can of sprite in my hand. There would be the smell of weed in the air and the sound of heavy liquor going down down down. I could hear the sex in their words when they spoke, I could feel the intentions behind their eyes, the drugs in their bags. I'd catch sight of you dancing without a thought of the world, the music in your veins, and smile.
You enjoyed taking my hand and dragging me to these places. I would follow without a word or complaint, so humor me. You always did. These nights never really ended well, but how can we really expect them to? I'd turn away from your slim figure and watch the predators prowl. If I blinked, they would be gone. Sometimes you'd take me into a bedroom and we would sit on the floor together, our backs against the bed. Whenever we left the room, your "friends" would give you a high five.
Early morning when it was still dark, we'd be walking, your arm heavy around my shoulders. Ever since I met you, you've been good at holding your alcohol. I think you held mine too, just because you were that great of a friend. Our steps would slow as we got to the end of the street and routinely we would turn and face each other.
"Never... have I felt so alive," You'd tell me breathlessly in my ear as you pull me into a tight hug.
I'd think of the 'you' I once knew.
"You don't even know alive anymore," I'd say and give you a kiss on the cheek goodnight.
0 Confessions:
Post a Comment