I didn’t ask her to, but she got me tipsy when her mother was out of town. I’d never drank sour grapes from the vine in a dusty cup. I’d never sip from another coffee cup, not in my entire life. A little dramatic? Maybe. But it’s the same with her kiss; I’ll never wash my fucking face again — I’m not removing the scent of her wine breath. Rays lingered between the blinds; I blinked my eyes open to us on her bed in the nude. Immaturity ran this as I fell in love with a girl I’d soon forget. A little life makes death more miserable.
(© 2022 AC)
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