We have such difficulty never hearing the ending of stories that aren't ours, never satisfied with a story half told.
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This collection contains segments of stories from those we observe and yet never truly come to know despite our mind needing t...
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Malbec pulses through my veins disguising itself amongst my blood inside. Liquid courage. It has to be tonight. Tonight, in the bar on the West Side.
'Thirsty tonight there, Hart?' You smirk with a gesture towards the remnants, questioning my poison of choice. Absentmindedly circling your whisky glass and your baritone lull, makes me misplace my own voice.
I search the depths of molten silver cautiously, but your marble exterior doesn't break for a clue . I'm scared to chip it, please don't crack and leave, my words are my axe, I aim, it's time for a breakthrough.
'Yeah for you.' Malbec rushes to my cheeks. My eyes fall to the ground, but your thumb lifts my chin, alerts the nerves along my cheekbone until it rests on my lips. 'Ah in vino veritas,' you whisper with a grin.
'If we're making proclamations tonight Rory,' Your sterling persona softens over the syllables of my name, it's the first time you've let your tongue form the letters. Our latent pasts finally wiped clean, the old chapters now aflame.
'In vino veritas, Aurore, I love you. And I have for quite some time.' Your marble skin flushes rouge, my hand pulls you by your left lapel. Our lips meet a haze of Malbec, hyacinth and a burn of whiskey. Absorb the others poison, happy to fall under both love and lusts spell.
I pull back, you sober as contact is lost, I gaze constellation tattoo, 'We should have come here sooner,' I whisper, 'my Malbec confession was overdue.'
