Whiskey Mouth

By Klemente Cisneros

His lips whispered sorrow into a cold glass of wine. As I sat there, I looked into his crystal eyes, melting as the pouring November rain. Quietly sobbing, pausing at every moment, smiling at every song. He sipped the purple into his soul, trying to drawn the demons of the past, burning the memories in his heart, expelling pain as it reached his veins. “It’s all I want,” he said, “It’s all I ever will.” I watched his deep hazel eyes in the flashes of the night. Honey melted skies. The lashes, long and black, lifting at every gaze, sinking at every thought. The look deep as a dead sea, warm as a summer night. Invigorating, intimidating, inviting. His lips like berries, moist, round, bruised, cherry red. A tempting whiskey mouth. And the cheeks blossomed from his facial bones in a soft rosy color fading away into his uneven ginger beard. Lost flames of timber peeked from his deep brown silky hair covered by city lights. I could not find a flawless face more perfect than the one I was staring for hours at this local bar. The eyes, the lips, the hands like soft stones warped around my frightened jaw.


I could not find the words to explain how much I loved this man. This boy who once broke my heart in a reckless manner. Yet, Behind the perfection of his sorrow, the forgiveness of tomorrow stood in colored skies. I knew, deep in my heart he was sorry for his departure. Thought, everything in the place was overwhelming, the sound, the chatting, his words. I needed to get out. I asked him if he would walk with me as I needed to process everything beneath the darkness of the night. As we walked down the street, I battled to control my scream from jumping out my chest. I held my tears in chains of pride and the dryness of my mouth incarcerated the three words I guarded painfully beneath my soul. But I could not stay strong, for the depth of his words melted my heart of stone. Those three words he could never say once in two years came rushing from the depths of his darkest self–a part of him savaged by pride and prejudice–his heart.


Standing face to face in the deepest of the night, he exhaled those three worlds in the wave of a warm breath mixed with tears and sincerity. I cried; but this time not of pain, or love, or deception. I cried because for the first time I saw repentance behind hazel eyes. Pure, pristine, flawless. And, though the echo of the words he once told me flooded his very words that came afloat the dancing rain, the perfect line for the survival of our love reached the surface. He said, “I can’t let go of you. I want your crazy. I want your kindness. I want your flawed face and all your mistakes. Because I know I could just let go of today and move on. Yet, i’ll probably end up with someone who doesn’t understand me at all but whom i completely adore and then i’ll end up in some asylum with a pet turtle i’ve named after her and she brings me flowers everyday. I rather die with you than alone without our reckless love.” He kissed me, softly. As I felt his soft lips touch mine, I became to fight back in an attempt to guard my feelings. I failed. I let the moisture of his ruby red mouth brush along my dried silenced lips. I grabbed his face around my hands and the softness of his skin exacerbated my respiration. Suddenly, every feeling I restrained escaped from the chains of my heart, like a raged stampede of fall butterflies. But, this time there was no pain, regret, or lust. Everything was him and nothing hurt.There nothing but beauty. It was our souls speaking to each other as our warm breaths mixed in a cold december night. I felt him. His love. He felt mine. We felt us.


That was the moment for me. The moment I knew everything wasn’t everything and nothing was anything at all. That was the moment I felt it was true love. That was the moment I said to myself, “Oh, whiskey mouth where have thy been all these years? For I never slept, drank, or breathe much for the meeting of this morrow. I love you and I can’t deny it. I love you and I’ll always will.” Hugging me like never before he replied, “I love you.” And we smiled in tears sealing any past sins. Thus, with that crooked smile of his, he whispered in my ear, “We better hurry.” ”What for?” I asked. “Love,” he said, grinning, ” And we don’t wanna miss that.”




Love,


Klemente