Last Night

Perfectly timed cigarette breaks makes it easier to hear but back in the pub voices are muffled by the chorus of loud drinkers and the occasional crescendo on broken glass. Cold hands are held over tables, constant doubt that it won't last. Drunk smiles and forehead kisses slow down the evening till each word is a slur. Each clink of a cheers, wakes you up that little bit more before you realise, what am I doing here? Sober enough to know that girls crying in the ladies and hard-hitting conversations are not what I signed up for. Strolling bar to bar as if we're searching for something, maybe this time something will happen, maybe... But it never does. Disappointment takes hold and tangles with the acid inside your stomach, giving you a physical gut feeling to leave. And so, you do. But the whirlwind of a drunken night doesn't stop there. Old faces of past lovers block your vision and other faces with no name, with forgetful meaning. Each step stumbling, stumbling alone. Pounding music from club illuminations and hordes of loose morale party goers. The only solace is pretending it never happened.

 

"What did you get up to last night?"

"I can't remember, too drunk to remember"

 

I don't want to remember, too sober to forget.

 

(February 2018)