literature

Whiskey Laden Dreams

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Daily Deviation

Daily Deviation

October 7, 2012
Whiskey Laden Dreams by =WyvernLetDie
Featured by thorns
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Literature Text

Bitter eyes and tears might taint a drink, but sitting in this bar alone with your stool pulled out next to me, and the Martini poured regardless of your presence still brings a smile to my face; despite the taste. I'm having a whiskey myself; dry. Yes, I know I don't drink, but every once in a while you need whiskey to solve an intricate problem, and mine is the distinct lack of alcohol in my life.

There are people everywhere and it amazes me how none of them are you, from the woman in the black dress coming down the stairs to the signing couple in the corner, laughing silently. They're not you at all, and that's what's amazing – in an ocean of coal you're a marble pebble, smooth to the touch and pleasant to the eye, and you don't leave me scarred.

Much.

I'll kick back the tumbler for now, refilling your drink when necessary, despite you never having it. The waitress will look at me with tired eyes and concerned words, but I'll insist I'm drinking with a friend, whilst that sad guitarist plays his song and I mumble with him; lyrics, half-heard.

Nights can be cold, but walking home by the gutter has its own sense of beauty. I can spy a rainbow in an oil-slick, and it usually keeps me happy. There's still some colour left in my life, despite my favourite one being just out of reach. I'm a purple man, myself – it's regal, fit for a prince[ess].

My ocean's a cruel maiden, keeping me from you, yet I find the distance adds to the flavour. I like company in the small hours of the morning (or my afternoons) and you've kept me sane. I think you've kept me sane. I suppose taking a second stool and drink at the bar doesn't help my conviction, much.

If people are multi-faceted, then I'm pretty sure you're a dodecahedron, complete with a lucid geometry I can't quite take my eyes off. I'd love to bisect your angles, measure your curves. Sadly, I can't find my plane of least resistance, so I'll trudge on through the snow and the oil slicks 'till I get home and collapse into bed.

The whiskey stops the dreams – that's the kindness of it. If I can never be fully happy, I can never fully miss the thing I've never had.
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TheChesherCat's avatar
I love the very real presence in this of a second person. Vivid and original story :D