Good Morning.
Even Now
It’s her.
Even from across the room, from what seems like the other side of the planet, to the moon and back again, from my seat at the bar to the corner of the dance floor. With a man attached to her hip. With a cup of cold liquor in one hand and a smoke in the other. Even with my hair in my eyes and a crowd of people dancing, weaving their bodies in and out and all in between my line of vision from that corner of the room.
Even though I hadn’t wanted to go to the club, I’d gone.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her in over two years.
Her eyes are like diamonds, shining through the dark, smoky room and flashing brighter than the strobe lights as they flash. I sit at the bar counter and watch the scene unfold, with her arms around some man’s neck I’ve never met and her teeth showing through.
There’s this genuine glow around her, a happiness I, for some reason, hadn’t expected. She’s still as lovely as the day is long and then some. I see she dyed her hair back to red, the same color she had as when we first entered high school. I always told her it suited her best, but she liked to experiment with her hair color and fashion sense. Always reinventing herself, never changing that same personality. She was bubbly, excited, ready to conquer anything. She was love.
She still is, my God. I can’t even think straight.
Her skin is glowing. She looks healthy and strong. I wish I was that man dancing with her, despite the fact I’ve got two left feet and hate the party scene more than I care to tell. But, fuck, she’s just so perfect and lovely and looks better than I remember.
There’s this rapid beating that keeps physically shaking my body emanating from my chest. I think it’s my heart. What’s happened to me? What the hell have I done?
Oh, but I love her.
Even still.
Even now.
Even from across the room, from what seems like the other side of the planet, to the moon and back again, from my seat at the bar to the corner of the dance floor. With a man attached to her hip. With a cup of cold liquor in one hand and a smoke in the other. Even with my hair in my eyes and a crowd of people dancing, weaving their bodies in and out and all in between my line of vision from that corner of the room.
Even though I hadn’t wanted to go to the club, I’d gone.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her in over two years.
Her eyes are like diamonds, shining through the dark, smoky room and flashing brighter than the strobe lights as they flash. I sit at the bar counter and watch the scene unfold, with her arms around some man’s neck I’ve never met and her teeth showing through.
There’s this genuine glow around her, a happiness I, for some reason, hadn’t expected. She’s still as lovely as the day is long and then some. I see she dyed her hair back to red, the same color she had as when we first entered high school. I always told her it suited her best, but she liked to experiment with her hair color and fashion sense. Always reinventing herself, never changing that same personality. She was bubbly, excited, ready to conquer anything. She was love.
She still is, my God. I can’t even think straight.
Her skin is glowing. She looks healthy and strong. I wish I was that man dancing with her, despite the fact I’ve got two left feet and hate the party scene more than I care to tell. But, fuck, she’s just so perfect and lovely and looks better than I remember.
There’s this rapid beating that keeps physically shaking my body emanating from my chest. I think it’s my heart. What’s happened to me? What the hell have I done?
Oh, but I love her.
Even still.
Even now.
