An unopened bottle lay lying in my wake. The mistakes from last night playing in my head, the cigarette in my hand burning into ash, was I awake? The clouds were closing in, I had a deadline to meet and here I was, walking through my mind.

The doors swung open as I walk pass them, memories of once upon time laughing in my head. The ropes I once held on to were quickly losing threads; I cut them to make the pain easier. The tears in my womb sobbed a story different from the one in my head.

My feet touching the cold ground that I walked upon. My toes tingling in the ice while my warm heart surged forward. My arms snugly folded at my bosom as my confident stride pushed me through the tunnels.

Photo Credit: Gursimran Kaur (limeonrock on Flickr)

Photo Credit: Gursimran Kaur (limeonrock on Flickr)

The cigarette was burnt, my fingers lit up in the delight of my happiness. My soul opaque to the noise around me as I struggle knee deep through the confusion that my being was. Is this where I wanted to be? Did I know where I was going?

There’s a long line of dreams in queue each with their own pedestal, with their own importance climbing the ladders into my mind, fighting for their space. I had once kept him there for my own liking pushing away everything else in order to satisfy the emptiness I had felt for many years. All the dreams in the world could now never fill the void.

Pins drop as the silence slices the wind. I had remembered that tonight the heartache was on me. My fingers touched the keys, the paper rustles in the soft breeze. “She was alone in her death.”

I opened the bottle.


One thought on “Cointreau

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