Maybe There’s Nothing Only This Moment

Leave the drunken state to be something less desired. I keep pounding TBOTB with stuttered finger taps. I am writing words but nothing worth retaining as a keepsake. I always thought people show up for those they love, and maybe I have no evidence to the contrary, but I can’t quite shake this feeling of doubt. I think people look out for number one, and I would bet that’s not me or anyone other than the agent in question. The prospect is not all that daunting. I wouldn’t expect anything less from rational humans.

Honestly, I just miss Cara’s smile. I miss the outrageous laugh projecting from lips full of life. I miss the feeling of home inside the apartment so cluttered I had to watch my steps. Our paths crossed like lovers in a deluge seeking shelter in a poorly constructed structure. Cara was the queen of no make-up, and now, I long to see her bare cheeks in light walking up the walls. How I long to feel the therapeutic touch that once massaged my scalp in the shower at 11 pm, how I long to strip our clothes off and climb into bed once again, forsaking no moment of touch, crashing underneath a duvet cover and quilt, buyring us, sandwiching us between the floor and ceiling. I think of Cara now, and I collide. I’ve forgiven myself in her head, but have I forgiven myself in mine?

If history is any indicator, I’ve been thinking of Cara for far too long now. For far too long have I been turning my eyelids inside out, trying to justifiably articulate them and the indent they left behind my sternum. Adjectives and petty analogies leave much left unsaid, and like a cigarette lit to burn slow, the ember on the end is revived with each pull and each exhale.

Title is from “Where am I?” by Title Fight from their album Shed