This is a side of her you only get to see once in a while, if she’s comfortable enough with you. Turns out she is. With the many times you’ve had her, there will be days when she will taste like Cigarette and Whiskey. And you’ve got to savor that. Usually she smells of Almond, and tastes like her favorite Spearmint Gum, but days like this are important. And special. Take advantage of that.

Let her tell you the most shallow, but darkest thoughts that occupy her mind, what it’s like to have her walls brought down. Let her show you every thorn bush in the forest she seeks refuge from on days like this. Taste the alcohol in her mouth. Smell the smoke in her hair. The sweat on her neck. Let her take your hand. Let her show you where it hurts. Let her guide you to where she needs you. Watch her drown herself in the bitterness of Jack, or Johnnie. Watch her make that face as she takes another sip. And another. And another. And another. Until she forgets who she is. Until she forgets she can’t dance. Until she forgets. And simply remembers you. Watch her whip her hair. Watch her flick her menthols as she sits next to you half naked. Watch her like this. Because no one else has.

Caress her face a little. Touch her face. Run your hand through her lips. Remind her you’re around. She’ll get lost every once in awhile. She’ll struggle to light her next stick, and she’ll laugh at her failed attempts.

Savor this moment. And let her be herself.

For once.

(Originally written on my Journal, fake Ernest Hemingway style on the 4th of November at 10:46 P.M.)