"You, my dear, have the soul of a writer."
I cringed before glancing at him with a scowl. "You mean the soul of a poet?"
"No. God, no. You're the furthest thing from a poet. Whereas a poem has the capability of designing a truth endowed with ribbo...
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HEAVEN CAME TO ME IN THE FORM OF A PRETTY BITCH NAMED AMY
My jaw was locked, my hands shook from a force at the top of my lungs, breaching off towards the back of my skull and down my spine. A flurry stretched across my limps, gentle static just beneath the skin, pooling against the tips of my fingers like electric was about to shoot out in bolts. The front of my head rang, a fierce thudding that gradually died as I finished my beer. I felt myself blink into recognition, suddenly perked up with a type of radiance that echoed throughout my blood. My brain was still dead, soft and rotting in a marinade of toxins and liquor, but somehow I could function without it. As though a generator kicked on and my mind was suddenly lit inside an unfamiliar light, I saw myself acting in ways I never would've predicted, and unsure how to stop if I wanted to.
I looked at Colton with a grin. He was placing two shreds of paper towel onto his tongue, his eyes closed and face eased with contentment. From the corner of a half-lidded glance, he looked down at me and smiled. "I hope that helped. That was once my bro."
"What?" I cocked my head, positive I misheard—not really caring if I hadn't. I leaned forward, my shoulders pulled inward as I grinned up at him. My body was thrumming, I was suddenly entirely aware of the entire earth and then some—the sweat dousing off those just as fucked up as me, if not more so. The strobe lights, the passion. It was all making sense, a question I didn't remember asking coming with the answers of the universe. I looked at Colton, he was glowing under the abrasive shine of the hundreds of artificial suns, his pupils dilated and he was smiling just as hard and we were glowing, absolutely glowing. I crossed my arms, leaned my shoulder against his playfully and bit my tongue. It was glorious, all of it. The night, the moon, the stars, the force of light. The overheated bodies as they rubbed against each other, the narrow line of all that was real and fake—all but insignificant in where I was now.
He was there, too. An arm hooked around my torso, he pulled me onto his lap. Lips pressed against my throat, he nipped me teasingly before moving back with a smirk.
"What was that?" I asked, dazzled.
"Hmm? You still got them cigs, baby?"
I tossed him the pack, though not before taking out two for myself. As I lit one and took my first inhale, all of the muscles in my body falling into submission. Smoke interfered with something far more polluted, and I felt a million changes at once—my blood frothing as electricity poured around my nerves, a cool wave of static as I imagined that I could dissipate in the wind, as powerless and insignificant as the ash that fell from my cigarette. I leaned back in the chair, watched the sky, the running clouds, the moon, and tried to remember a time I felt more at peace.
