The Whiskey Monologues

FOR NOW

It’s on nights like these that it’s the hardest. The nights where even my 800 thread count sheets can’t bring comfort from your side of the bed. These nights are not unfamiliar to me. They’re like laundry. You just keep throwing it in a bag, in hopes that it will clean it self out. Until eventually you have to sift through it and deal with the stains, rips, tears, marks and scuffs that you can’t stop yourself from getting.

So here I am. Dealing with it. An ice cube and Old No. 7. It doesn’t make things better, just easier. Jack knows how I feel about him, and I know how he feels about me. More than I can say about you.

Your pictures swipe across my hazy vision. Its a pain so deep. It’s like there’s jagged jigsaw hole deep down and you’re the only piece. All I want to do is tell you that your wonderful. Tell you that you’re the one. Tell you everything. It would be so easy. The letter is already addressed. A flight of stairs and it could be done. You would know who I am. You would remember me. I try so hard to forget you, but you would remember who I was. After 3 glasses that doesn’t seem so bad. This isn’t a cure, but it does make things easier. My whiskey makes me comfortable. Warm cozy nestled up in a big cocoon of comfort.Away from the letter your pictures your eyes. It gets me through the night and that’s enough, for now.

Submitted by Top Gun Academy.