Taking a long drink of his whiskey and cola
Driving along the winding backroads
I find myself more adventurous with him
A little more reckless
He’s telling stories in between songs, and we laugh
Him at my reactions to his antics and me at his laughter
Anything for levity in light of difficult circumstances
And the heavy weight of mortality
I’ve considered leaving so many times, only to strengthen my
choice to stay until one of us is gone.
Cognitive dissonance ringing loudly at who I should be, and
who I really am. Good versus bad. Light versus darkness.
And not seeing the differences between the versions.
We hold hands and I feel a comforting connection. Trying
hard to burn the memories into my mind.
There are moments I wish I knew how long I had left. Or how
much time was left with him. I don’t know if I’d dwell on it,
anxiously trying to live as much life as possible before it’s
gone. It seems useless to make that wish.
I’m grieving the loss of him while he’s still here, and I know
I’m not ready for him to be gone. I never thought I’d want
someone so much while gluing the shards of my heart back
together. I don’t know why it’s him. Why I want things I
swore I’d never want again.
The very next minute I’m cursing him, at how infuriated he
makes me. How he prides himself at being a blunt asshole.
Maybe he didn’t expect me either, and it threw everything
sideways.
Skaja Evens is a Best of the Net-nominated writer living in SE Virginia. Her work has appeared in Medusa's Kitchen, The Rye Whiskey Review, Synchronized Chaos, Mad Swirl, Spillwords Press, Ink Pantry, Blue Pepper, among others. Her first book, conscientia veritatis, from Whiskey City Press, is available on Amazon.
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