but the thing is, there has to be.

It was something I shouldn’t have been doing, and I guess that was the appeal. With the second sip I felt warm, and with the third I began thinking about the way we act when we just let ourselves go. How everything is better. How we get along so easily. How we just plain treat each other the way we always should have. We can’t remember what it’s like to not smile, and if we do then we cry so hard we start to hurt. By the time we hit a dozen sips, it no longer bites and we no longer taste the sarcasm, selfishness, or hurtful intent. We start to explore the warmth around us, finding comfort in entanglement. With the last sip our bodies have linked themselves. Feet to thighs, noses in necks, fingers interlocked. I honestly think that if our skin stopped touching, even for the slightest second, you’d disappear into nothing and I’d never see you again. For the rest of the night, I’m constantly checking to make sure we’re in contact, but you barely notice. You take me around the room, pointing out everything in sight, your eyes as big as a child’s. You keep insisting how important everything is, almost leaving me behind. I crawl into your safe place, but I’m getting lost inside all the folds.