That Drunk Night, We Knew Each Other

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That drunk night, we knew each other.

One drinking to escape thinking, and the other to let her thoughts take over her.You held me in your arms the whole time and for that I am ever grateful. Your shoulder blades wide enough to hold my excitement of the first joint. When I said I can hear your heartbeat, you hugged me tight, my face pressed onto your chest. Later I dozed off in your lap, your palm beneath my face and your thumb tracing my lips. Two lost people.

“Come closer” you said.
And I did.

My hair smelled of you the next morning.

I am happy you don’t remember.Because in this practical world we are no longer those people who sat under the tamarind tree watching the pyre go off. We pretend to be indifferent in each others presence and pretend to believe the other person’s indifference. Each one of us, with loads of pain and desperation zipped up in our hidden pockets. We are people who savor the prick when we occasionally slip our hands into them. Much like masturbation.

This sober you, who acts as if he is immune to emotions, I do not know enough to trust him.

“See you later”
“Sure.Bye”

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