I demanded he lick the residing sugar off of my lips.
His tongue was as cold as ice, he took his time to navigate around my mouth.
He liked this.
He was trying to wind me up, but little did he know, I was the one who ruled this game.
I could taste the bourbon on him.
My speciality drink, a sugar rimmed lemon drop, was once again empty.
Too much sugar I thought, it was getting to my head.
He pointed at the empty glass. I knew what he was asking.
I knew I’d had enough, but I nodded my head and asked him to pour me another round.
“But my usual this time.” I nagged at him.
I knew this feeling wouldn’t last.
My intoxication would fade.
My liver would break down the alcohol and my heart would come up with another reason why this too wouldn’t work out.
And so I thought,
what damage could one more drink do?
I’d mourn it all too late anyways.
It’s helpless really.
I had made out the entire relationship in my head. Beginning to end.
How he’d arouse me, but not the way I would want him to. He’d touch me and I would have to reassure him he was exactly what I wanted. He’d hold my hand in public to show me off, as I’d be daydreaming alone in my head. I’d grow lonely, asking for more adventure and excitement, to which he’d say, ‘you can’t change me’. And I’d agree, though feeling defeated.
I’d eventually yell, which would scare him, and I’d feel unsure how to fix it.
That is when my eyes will wonder.
And in the end, he will tell me, he met someone else. Then we would both move on.
“Where are you?”, he mentioned softly while handing me my quadrillionth gin and tonic.
My arms were heavy as my fingers reached and clasped around the sweating glass.
He’d added fresh ice cubes.
The good ones.
I held on tightly as if scared this perfection would slip through my fingers.
‘Would this one be different?’ I visibly shook my head.
To no surprise, he looked confused.
A look, telling me he was waiting for me to hail back to his couch, which I had been slouching on for the last 2 hours curling my toes under his thighs.
Or perhaps just waiting for me to shower him with affection again.
“I’m sitting right next to you.” I said flirtatiously smiling.
My heart was crying.
It knew I’d finish my drink but my feelings would be left on the table unattended to.
Too scared to stay.
Too proud to ask for love.
Because I knew, I’d better off alone.
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