the long and winding road

and i said, i needed to be drunk to ask. so he indulged me with the answers that spawned many more questions. and it is only now, two days after, that i try to remember what it was he said. i only have memories of two voices in my head.

i was leaning against the cold tiles of his bathroom. the world was spinning and a friend on the phone was telling me to walk away. he was downstairs, in the yard fighting off sleep.

so we counted to ten, my friend and i. and a deep breath. if only my resolve were as mighty as my words. but i blame fate and the night. and the rain that poured too hard.

it did not let up till before six am. and in the few moments before i had to leave, he looked at me- the way people who've known each other too long, too deeply converse with their eyes.

but here i am back to where i should be. and he, too far away. farther than he ever was.