drunk at the south point

_{Photo by John Ollado}

By John Ollado

i dreamt about you for the first time. (i’m surprised it took this long.)

you took my hand and walked me through the crowds. (your hair was down this time.)

then we came upon a wine cellar and parted ways

with no fanfare.

you take off,

i look on,

the alarm rings.

———-

crowds scare me. but one night, one year since we last talked, i found myself drunk in company and drunk with company

during a midnight breakfast. so my eyes wander, they wander everywhere, they look on, and you are everywhere, and i reach out for my phone, my mind far behind and my heart suddenly far underground.

i am drunk at the south point and everything here reminds me of you

i miss you

and i hope you are doing well

———-

you’ve done it all. showroom floors, runways, sunsets in the big cities.

(i am stuck under the covers in my childhood room. suffocating. because the truth is–)

Truth is, I think about you every day. I ask about you every time. If you ever want to talk again, reach out. I hope you are doing well.

(-the truth is, i think about this every day. i ask why i haven’t done anything about it. Because i want to reach out, but there are crowds between us. so all i can do is hope you are doing well…)

(…and wear my hair down.)