Soaked.

(A peice a wrote quite a bit ago.I thought it'd be a good starter entry :p)


Drunk.

2 liters of Bacardi watermelon was our poison tonight.

Poured myself a tall cup.

The boozy taste mingled well with an

Oranage soda and 7 up blend.

My blood was soaked with 70 proof

clear Puerto Rican sugarcane ethanol.

tonight was going to be a good night.

I could feel it in the air.


Stash a pack,out of smokes.


She grabs his hand and they go stumbling into the rain.

Giggling and whispering.

Soaked.Their clothes and shoes.Wet in puddles

And in the rain.

Kisses.Hard on the mouth.

Like this was an everyday occurance.

This was so natural.So normal.


Who would think anything else?

"Why do we have to be drunk every time we do this?"
He asks.

Well...she does it for him..she thought.

It was the only time he'd ever touch her in the past.

only if they had ingested enough vodka to be blind to emotions.


Well....fuck.


Slippery.wet.cold.They head back inside.



No smokes.

That got lost in translation.

Lying in her bed,they take off their wet clothes.

He pulls off her green sweats.

the sweats that used to belong to her ex boyfriend.

This moment defines something much deeper than any of them can imagine at the time.

Soaked.Her hands are covered in the blue dye from his hair.

she needs something..anything,to hold on to.

This really can't be happening.