Tequila

“I will love you forever.”

I’m sitting here, legs sprawled along my windowsill,
like all the times we used to talk on the phone,
pondering those five words.
Mulling them over — as if they had taste to them.
As if they had texture to them.
As if they had meaning to them.

I worry that I’ll continue to chase you in every
other lover’s eyes, hope that I’ll hear your laugh
in someone else’s voice, pray that the bottom of
the bottle holds the answers to letting go.
I’m scared we’ll never make our way back.

But my biggest fear of all —
the forever you promised to love me,
is the same forever I’ll spend writing about
how I wish you were.

– Samantha Prasad

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