Admittedly, this is inspired by the turn of the year. Because of the title. You caught that, right? Of course. You are always more intelligent than I give you credit for, and less willing to sell your soul for a good vocab word, like I am. These words we never exchange sit dancing on my tongue as champagne swirls and dances along them. It’s such a sweet feeling to explode a cork in your hand but not cry. It’s better when you’re alone. The pain tolerance
is highest. But the idea of kissing off a drop of wine off your lip trumps that Richter scale. The idea of a hand on a thigh brings tears to my eyes. I can new years resolute to never think of you but on everything I look at you are there in the water I drink in the bed I sleep in the brain I dream. We are always sweetest in the dreams.