The Drink

On her way back home
she passed by a small dingy market
where the old man always greets her
his wrinkles tell stories of happiness
exhaustion and tales of wild days
and sleepless nights

She always passes by his place
for that transparent drink
she longs for after a hard day’s work
the old man smiles, she feels like he sees himself
in her reckless unsteady life
he knows where the night will lead
he knows the loose bodies that will sway
to the beats of music, the cigarette smoke
that will hug their hair and of course
the droplets from brim full cups
that will polka dot their clothes

Everyday he asks her one question
that he complies into creating his own
identity of her
all he knows is that she grabs that glass bottle
of intoxicating liquid and a pack of Kent blue

She pays, grabs the bag and takes the corner
up to her apartment, every step gets her closer
to the chilled cup and a cigarette

When she got home, she removed the bottle from the bag
and to her surprise, the clear liquid changed color
it’s teal color lured her eyes to double check
a confused hue, resembling her mood at the moment

“I swear I get this everyday
what the F$% is happening?”

Inspecting it, reading the description
hoping for a “limited edition” to appear somewhere
but nothing

She grabbed a cup
as she eyed the level she wants to pour
the liquid changed color again
the cup was sparkling with glittering
gold bits floating in light pink waters

Regardless, she carried her cup
to her bedroom, played some music
and sat on her bed
curious and eager, she closed her eyes
let the drink
touch her lips

A jolt trembled through her body
her eyes widened in surprise
She felt something even Alice and all the wonders of her land
couldn’t explain

The music slowly
started creating a shadow
“what’s in this?”

she sat on that bed
frozen, to the unbelievable that’s happening
the notes joined together to create
thoughts that only pertained to her
she actually enjoyed this
since it always was hard for her to vocalize
versus scribble

She let the music guide her thoughts
into creating what seems to be a masterpiece
she laid back on her pillow with a smirk
taking advantage of what’s happening
cup in hand, a cigarette in the other
she thought and thought
the music got louder and louder
her creation was taking shape

She sipped that drink
then licked her lips to have a taste again
she looked up, her creation was staring back
making her feel like he painted her

She did not know her thoughts could create such beauty
fixing her posture, she felt weak,
weak for her thoughts

“That drink…” she mumbled to herself
followed by a chuckle
she stood up so as to inspect it
it stood there with eyes locked on hers
drink still in hand, sparkling with golden lights
reflecting on the walls

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of bed
“let’s go, they are slowly disappearing” he says

He closed his eyes, embraced her
“close your eyes, the stars will hurt them”
She did as told, even though she is the one with the thoughts
she controls him, but she found herself succumbing to her own creation

She felt a gust of wind brush her cheeks
she opened her eyes to find herself
between the lines of a book, empty ready to be strummed
with words, a fantasy of hers,
she always wanted to inject
into her reality

“these are your pages, I am your creation 
lest not those be dreams, but your own elation
with lead fingers I cast a spell
that books from your soul in others will dwell
you are magic and a creator of worlds
there is no excuse that your hands can’t hold
go on my darling with soul of fire and heart of gold
let earth know the jewel that shines 
beautiful and bold”

She stopped
realizing that her drink has disappeared
her creation was standing there
marveling at her carelessness
at her weightless attitude
and the love that’s
emitting light
from the ends of her golden locks

she created him so well that when
those lights touched his shadow
the first thing she heard
from him
was a loud
heart beat
he smiled
she smiled back

The music got louder,
and she danced her way on those lines
stories upon stories, beautiful people
colored lands, pink clouds and velvet skies
yellow flowers and blue streets

Little did she know that her dreams
are the only creators
of her
little
reality

dreamy skies

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