Alcohol Soaked Nostalgia (12/9/17)

Shoulders blanketed in a worn winter coat, but can’t be bothered to pull your arms through the sleeves. You stumble as you walk across the porch and debate whether its the alcohol coursing through your veins or the broken wooden beams at your feet impeding your coordination. Lungs fill with sweet smoke from a cigarette, the ember matching the soft glow in the sky that kisses the now barren branches of the woods below.

You find the scenery becoming background music to the beat of a reverie set back in a previously beloved memory. Then it hits you that even though colors are bursting to life in every visible direction the only color that fills your mind’s eye is brown. . . That kind of dark brown that looks so deep you’re scared if you stare into it’s endlessness you might just fall in.

The  sky sweetly whispers rays of sunlight through the overcast of the early dawn and beckons your thoughts back to the present. It’s morning. A new day, a fresh start. You close your eyes on that note of comfort and wait for sleep. As you slowly drift away, thoughts of sunsets and sunrises and new beginnings and that melancholy brown of past desire float through your thoughts and into your dreams as sleep finally takes you under once again.

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