My Life

Write a letter to the last person you kissed.

Dear,

Let’s be honest it was all pretty much blur in which we weren’t kissing, then we were, and then we weren’t again. And then it almost like it hadn’t happened.

Because that’s pretty much what happens when everything is just sort of a drunken hazy blur. Just noise, thumping beats that you can feel somewhere deep in your ribcage and vodka. Always so much vodka. And a forced sense of closeness. To compensate for the fact that you can hear your heartbeat thudding in your eardrums and not much else.

It was fleeting thing. The kiss that is. We both know that. Mainly a thing that was just used as a vessel to shut a bunch of people up and was easier to go with than fight against. Which sounds like a bad attitude to take to it I guess in the grand scheme of things, some people would say that it’s too frivolous an attitude to take and others, like me, wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at it. In this instance it was just very much a means to an end. And the end was basically just getting people to shut up and getting more vodka and lemonade sucked through the straw that I have previously been chewing on pre-kiss.

Things have largely been fine since, on my end at least. It’s pretty easy to get to that stage when the amount that we see one another is effectively 0. And not that I’ve seen you to know if you feel the same way, but I imagine that you do. It was very much an of-the-moment moment with next to no attachments tied up along with it.

It was vodka and cider and the thick smell of cigarettes. It was almost too cold nights, scarves and winter coats. It was fairy lights and wooden benches. It took place on a night that led to a really bad hangover the next day.

It was what it was.

 

sign off 2


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