True Story

Drowning in nights of
reckless alcohol consumption
He looked at her across from him
sitting there on a scorching Sunday
in the pool, at the bar

Loving the sun, she untied her bathing suit strap
and rested her elbows on the bar,
swaying her vision with the waves of the pool

He lit a cigarette and traced her silhouette
with his vision, she didn’t know
*thank you sunglasses*
but he did, he watched as every droplet
slid on her tanning oil drenched skin
they slid from her neck to her collar bones
from her chest to her belly button

What’s it like to write?
I mean how does it all come to you?” he said
swaying his cigarette
that rested between his index and middle finger

She turned her posture towards the bar
signaled another Margaritta and smiled
he knew her eyes smiled underneath her sunglasses as well

She opened her hands as if preaching..writing is her passion
and preaching about a passion is powerful
and nerve wrecking

I know its odd but it’s like vomit” she giggled
You never expect it, it’s like you’re out
and drinking, swooned by everything else
but your rationale

Until your rationale slaps you 
in the face with the strongest realization
of “there’s so much in here
you need to vomit

That involuntary act of your body 
ridding itself of a whole night 
of recklessness, to ready itself 
for a fresh start

Writing is like the act of vomiting, 
I know everyone else will hate to hear this
but for me, 
it comes out of me, when I least expect it
leaving me with a clear mind, feeling lighter
I love it

He smiled, knowing she would say something
as absurdly beautiful, that would make sense
He knew that glitch of hers, does have a merit

His smirk accompanied by the nod
reassured her that he got what she meant
a sigh of relief overcame her sun-kissed body
and she exhaled

“I think you’re the only person
who’d compare the thing she loves most
to vomit” turning off his cigarette
He took his cup
and cheered her

“You’re messed up, up here
Aren’t ya?” pointing to his head

“probably, isn’t everyone?”as she licked
the salty crystals off of her lips, the remnants
of her margaritta
She, then
laid on her back
and floated
soaking up
all the sun

Esprit vintage  pool girl




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