Drunkenly Sober

It was dark and solemn. It was my party but then all the guests left, except her. So now she’s across from me, holding her liquor quite well compared to any women I knew. Her hair was down and she looked fresh from the runway. She wore a simple blouse and a skirt yet for me she looked magnificent. She was leaning against the couch with her legs crossed, one hand holding the glass filled with alcoholic bliss. I can look at her for hours. That image of hers will be forever burnt in my memory.

But then she saw me looking and I felt so embarrassed around her because she’s like a masterpiece da Vinci painted, a work of art that all men wanted to see; for she was like Mona Lisa with that enigmatic smile yet she was different.

I swirled the glass as I criticized the amber liquid dancing with the ice. The amber liquid looked so precious inside the glass; it looked tranquil, quite serene, quite gentle, quite simple, quite elegant; quite beautiful. But then somehow in the middle I lifted my head and looked at her. Her dark chocolate eyes curtained by those soft eyelashes. Her dark chocolate eyes that act as windows of her soul. That was never true for me, for even if I looked deep in those dark orbs, I could never tell who she really was; for she was an enigma that can not be easily understand.

I left the glass on the coffee table, stood from where I sat and went towards her. I knelt on the floor in one knee as I gazed intently to her eyes. At first she was caught of guard to my sudden action but then I was always the one who liked giving surprises.

“You’re beautiful, very, very beautiful.” I smiled as the words left my lips.

So now I wondered which one was beautiful, for all was a blur in my horrid mind, the fluid that can take a man’s rationality for a short while or the face of the woman in front of me that can take a man’s heart – no, a man’s soul – no, a man’s lucidity – no, everything the man has – yes, without doubt yes; a face of the woman that can make a man forget who he is in a long, long while.

Along with my own ignorance of myself was my questionable struggle with my faith. For with just a mere smile from her can make me stop praising my own gods, with a mere touch from her can make me stop believing in my own principles. For even in my drunken state, I can say in full conviction how she is the epitome of all that is beautiful.

“You’re drunk, very, very drunk.” She was smiling, quite amused at my current state, maybe or how the way I slurred my words. But still she was beautiful and even if she laughed at me, how can I be angry? She always had a different way to make me happy.

May I be sober, may I be drunk, hath not the heart desires? Hath not the heart yearn for fondness and pleasures? Doth not the heart yield for love? For the heart is the same heart whether a man is sober, whether a man is drunk. For the heart still beats the same blood whether a man is sober, whether a man is drunk.

“Yet in my drunken state, I can still think of the many ways I can love you.” And then I heard her laugh. Truly, I should be thrilled for when she laughs, I can hear the universe sang in glee. But then what I say is true. Sober or not, drunk or not, I can still think of the many ways I can love her.

“You’re a childish fool when you’re drunk.” She reached for my face as she tried to pat my cheeks to sobriety. As if a mere pat can put me back to my sanity after losing it. It will not be enough. For when I lose my true state of sobriety, it was because I have gotten drunk of this so called ‘feelings’ for her.

‘Tis the foolishness that I am so proud of yet it does matter for I became a fool because of her.

I stood from where I knelt, sat beside her on my couch, leaned to my side as I once again cherish her undeniable beauty. I took the glass away from her and took her hand and pressed it to my chest, to my heart.

“I may be young yet I know quite well what love is. One can not deny how much I adore you, every fiber of your being.” I traced circles upon her palm with my thumb; her skin was so smooth, so soft. “Every inch of your skin, every corner of your soul.” Something changed within those dark chocolate eyes, they became softer and I felt my heart melt, I felt my heart pound.

“You make my blood boil, my insides churn, my manhood ache. You do all these things to me without even trying.” As my other hand held hers, I reached for her face with the other. I let my palm subtly caress her face yet I stopped because I can’t, I shouldn’t, for she was not mine. “It was as if, if you touch me now, you’ll hear a moan escaping from my throat as my body flinch by your first touch.” I felt her let go of my hand as she reached for the forgotten glass of liquor.

She does not look at me. I reached for her hand once more, placed it to my lips and whispered, “Who are you that you hold such control over my body?”

She stood up and faced her back at me. She drunk the alcohol so flawlessly but I know how the liquid will first burn her throat then give warmth to her body. I know the feeling quite well.

“You’re going to regret this by morning. And you’ll be so embarrassed.” Her voice was filled with false mirth. I knew to my heart how serious the words I have spoken.

“A man drunk is quite honest than he is sober.” I stood up and reached for her shoulder but then I was still drunk and can not fully control my body, so I fell to the couch, pulling her down with me. She turned around and so now I can feel her body pressed against mine. If this is not heaven then what is?

“Tell me, did you lure me to you the first time I saw you?” She was silent and I was silent too. I can stay like this forever, holding her close against me; I can do this forever, for it felt so easy.

I held the small of her back as my other hand relinquished the feel of her face. Naturally no men can easily touch her for she does not like it. But she let me and so maybe I’m different compared to any men.

“Let me have you tonight, let me kiss you once, touch you once, have you once. And forever will my soul rest in peace.”

I may have said my final wishes before my death. And if I had it all, I will happily welcome death face to face and seal the pact with my own blood.

She leaned into me and closed the distance with her lips. Her lips were soft and warm and inviting, her kisses were gentle, passionate and loving.

Of my sober state and false intoxication, of my growing hope and false despair, of my sane soul and false inebriation, I had a taste of heaven and answered were all my prayers.

- September 26, 2010 7:00 P.M.