136 proof

Gold amber in the glas - bloodshot eyes.

Someone in the neighbourhood plays the flute. I hate it, you loved it.

Another sip.

Your scent still lingers in the house. Everywhere is you - everything feels cold.

Not even the burn of the whiskey makes me feel warm.

Another sip.

I feel the hungover I will have tomorrow.

Pounding head, queasy stomach.

If you would see me now, your soft fingers would take the glas out of hand

I would have to drink a ton of water

But you are not here anymore

Not here to protect me from the monster called alcohol.

Another sip

and another one.

Maybe I still have those old cigarettes lying around - maybe it will sooth the pain.

another sip

I'm no longer able to fill the glas.

I take the bottle in my hand. It's seems heavier than before even though half its contents are in my bloodstream.

A gulp.

Memories I would like to forget, memories which seem clearer with every sip I take.

Seeing everything twice won't bring you back, mum.

Giving up on my life just because I miss you so damn much won't either.

I wish we had more time.

Another gulp. A tear.

Tomorrow will be the last time I empty a bottle on an empty stomach, I swear.

Tomorrow I will be able to deal with my loss, I promise.

Tomorrow I will visit your grave, I promise.

Tomorrow I will do all this and not just think it.

I promise.