Post Party Depression

Drunken lips absentmindedly meet with each other once again, eagerly rediscovering the chin and jaw line of one another, quickly becoming reacquainted with each other.

The taste of vodka stings in my throat as I hold your hand, feeling like I had never held anything so beautiful in my own.

Tracing your palms with my increasingly numb fingers, I threw my head back and laughed, my world spinning and my vision distorted.

My friend grabs my shoulder and, ever so reluctantly, I'm on my way, returning back to my home and nestling in all my dizziness back into my soft duvet.

As I lay under the buzzing ceiling fan, slowly sobering and returning to reality, a sinking feeling overcomes me.

I flashback upon the night of attraction, affection, lust, and adoration.

I picture your smug grin, your hands on my face, your familiar look into my eyes.

In a way that may confuse others, I couldn't help but feel sad all of a sudden as I laid in the quiet nook of my own bedroom.

For, even though I spent the nearly the entire evening with a companion, I realize something.

At this point in time, I have truly never felt more alone.