Tonight I let the bourbon
sit on my tongue far longer than usual.
The sting is comforting, I enjoy that I have lost the grimace it once
gave. The warmth is expected and
I give in and let it wash over me.
Today, my arms ache. I carry
too much as of late, invisible packages with no return labels. The saloons are filled and glasses have
been raised. My weak arm muscles
do not bear the strength to partake anymore. My anger is directed with clenched fists at the burden left
behind as we try to make sense of it all. With
what energy still residing in me I raise the camera to my eye. The light is as warm as the sugar in
my glass. I do not want to miss a drop.
I think she knows. Without a
complaint she sits for me and allows my lens to capture the ever-fleeting here and now, replaced by gut wrenching pain and longing for what once was. Tonight we let the music play and
pour some more.
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