As I sat alone in bed listening to the cycling whirl of the dishwasher,
I wished that I was ordering a second glass of Laphroaig,
feeling a warm glow move through my body,
drunk on an elixir of your laughter and scotch,
wondering why we had let three months slip away.

Yet,

miles and hours disappeared,

and it was

April 19, 2014,

and I was

terrified of how the night would

end.

The three of them,
mixing together for months.

Now,
were drowning on
my tongue.
But the sweet taste
hadn't soured
yet.

Until tonight.
With blurrier vision,
I saw clearly
to the bottom of the bottle.
The faster it went down,
the harder they were to swallow.

The words pooled to the top.
Swirled around until
one
after
the
other
d r i p p e d out.

Distinguishable dot

Dancing,

Dazzling,

Delightfully delicious.

Delirious.

Lying here
next to you.

The warmest body,
the brightest hue.