The Morning After (That’s Alcohol Talk Except You Were Sober)

I lay here… Laughing to myself as I think of how I remained in the same position I had fallen asleep in. Only this time my modesty is covered. I check the time. It’s quite early but you are not here. No note, no text, just a confused mixture of memories and blurry dreams. I spend the next hour separating the reality of last night from my perversed dreams that followed. The alcohol in my system is forcing me to get out of bed but my body won’t move. Slave to sudden mini heart attacks that quake my being anytime I realize which of the many thoughts flooding my mind had actually happened. 

The song… What was it again?! I hit the search button and right before I press play my conscience whispers to me 

“Foolish girl. You are a foolish and hopeless lover.”

I try to shut out the voice by remembering how you asked me to listen to the lyrics of the song. It looked like I focused on something else but I actually listened and felt the words when you asked me to. They built up the pleasure that I wanted to transmit into your soul by staring deep into your eyes. You probably didn’t realize. Do you remember you sang to me? I have that image of your lips stuck in my mind. How they came together to say the word “you.” They looked perfect. That’s the most treasured image I have from last night. I saw all of you, but that was my favorite thing to see.

“Foolish! He dropped that bomb on you last night before all this madness began. Is he even thinking about it like you are doing?” 

No note, no text. I have to admit that my conscience is getting to me. Going about the day like nothing happened but I’m still here, same spot since the madness ended. Two hours have passed. My body continues to ignore my mind’s instructions and my mind is too busy with other thoughts; my bladder could burst and I probably won’t realize. I seriously haven’t been able to think of anything else. Ok well the two phone calls that I ended in a haste because clearly my interests were somewhere else. 


This has to be the last time. This is not about to be a thing. I keep repeating to myself in denial that I’m a bit hurt inside. No text. Do I even want to talk about it? No. Maybe. I don’t know. Lately I don’t know a lot of things. What am I doing? What are we doing?

ENOUGH! I yell to my conscience as I finally decide to get out of bed. I pass the mirror and see my bare self. Flash backs remind me of what I had allowed you to see. What I had decided to share. How ok everything felt. No shame.

I walk into the bathroom consoling myself with the thought that everything that happened was mutual and consensual. No need to make a big deal out of it. 

“Yeah but is the feeling mutual?”


“Is he?”

I open the shower with a lot more strength than I need hoping the sound of the water distracts me from my unforgiving conscience. I sit on the floor of the tub and allow my body to be cleansed. Now thoughts and memories rush in like the water that’s hitting my skin. I think my favorite memory is of you telling me how you like listening to me and that you could listen to me all day. That’s alcohol talk except you were sober.I was the one intoxicated.

By the way that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve said to me. I never told you, but I have a box in my heart where I keep all the sweet things you tell me.

I remember them.

Know that I remember.

I remember how wide your eyes got while you told me take it easy. You didn’t know my fragile looking body could handle all that wine. I know you liked how the pink poison made me look on the outside -sexy is what you said and I must confess I loved how that word rolled out your mouth- but inside there was a hurricane of mixed feelings. A mess. And I was scared that this liquid would be the combustible substance that will burn me out with the sparks we were creating.

The morning after…

We are just going about our business.


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