Written by George Gad Economou
crepuscular night, the blinds were down, the lights
were off; no music, no laughter, no talking.
just some heavy breathing. the blue foldout
couch, still young and almost pristine, creaked
under our weight, her sobbing
reverberated within the
four deaf walls. the flickering
of a lighter deafening in the
graveyard surroundings. the metal
spoon heated up, the first crackling
of the chunk, first thin sheaths
the nostrils. it was all
over; just came
the clinic—simple operation,
her face was
pallid, her eyes lifeless.
we couldn’t look
at each other: just a few
days ago, we drank bars
dry, hassled pool, outdrank
bikers and cheated our way
into big poker pots in
life does change in a flash, it’s why
it’s become so trite in movies;
there’s nothing you can do to prevent it, let
alone predict it. one simple test sufficed to
end all our carousing; our wild ride that
was meant to be
forever ended prematurely.
drawing in the liquid magic that
erases every problem; flicking the
fingers on the dripping
needle. for a brief
last moment, I
saw the glow I’d come to adore
return to her refulgent green eyes.
she found a way to
drown the pain; permanently.
I tried next, but couldn’t
escape the sorrows.
whiskey only removed her
temporarily from my memories;
now, every triple shot of well tequila
is dedicated to
her, to that night from so long
ago, to the moment
a nightingale fell silent without
the world giving a damn.
Text © George Gad Economou
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