last night was not our last night.

It’s been a while, but this fear in me is fleeting. This carousel ride of cynicism will soon see its demise. I’ve got both feet on the ground, a fire in my eyes, and a cigarette in my mouth. It wasn’t just the physical attraction that made my night; there was a hue of intimacy painted into the conversation. And when no word stood good enough to describe what we had to say, we talked through body language. I remember looking at a sea of break lights, in between two shoulders, and through a dirty windshield. Giving luminance to the night like a string of red Christmas lights. You were half asleep in the backseat. Oh darling, isn’t life sweet?

And we’ll make it by the second try, or at least live like we can’t die.