Poison and Wine

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I look at him and I see everything that I never deserved. The way he says it all with his eyes without having to say anything at all. The way chills roll down my spine as my name rolls off his tongue. How the curve of his lips fit perfectly with mine.

Or his hands with my neck.

We dance closely together with every part of us touching. The music connects us on a whole other level. He tells me how sexy I look in my new red dress. I wore it just for him because I notice how his eyes sometimes wander to other women. He showers me with kisses.

He does the same with his fists later on.

heavy is the head

Love doesn’t even begin to describe the intensity I feel towards him. I’ve never felt this way about another human being before. I know right away that this is the best it’ll ever be for me and that I’m the lucky one. I’m able to be myself around him – including the tears.

Mainly because he’s the one causing them.

He never breaks eye contact with me throughout the entire night. He kisses me at the start of each song, his tongue moving in sync with the music. I can feel the whiskey kisses  of death slowly poisoning me, but I don’t care. He reassures me that it should be an honour to die by them.

I suppose it’s better than his hand. Right?

The night is coming to an end but I don’t want it to. This moment, right here, right now with him, it’s everything I dreamed of as a little girl. At least this time I was able to keep his attention the entire night. I call us a cab and we head out. I exit with a smile on my face, love in my eyes and his hand in mine.It’s a change from the usual frown, fear in my eyes and his fist on the kitchen wall.


The bedroom door closes behind us. I maintain hope that the night will end differently than all the others. I hope for passionate kisses leading to our love making. I hope for romantic gestures followed by the sound of the clinking of our wine glasses. The kisses are replaced with spiteful words that lead to my tears followed by the sound of wine glasses shattering. Later, he shows his love for me by grabbing my arms, shaking me and yelling in my face. His alcohol stained breath is a familiar smell.

He finally lets me go of his grip, as I fall to the ground and continue sobbing. He looks down at me with his “loving” eyes and tells me that I need to settle down.

I already have.

By Alexis Jamil


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