The hangover brings the total, the most amount of relief, as the final moments of the night seep belligerently across your inner vision resting prominently on the tip of your tongue. The cycle retires your prior objections to stop having more, the morning light is only as bright as the retinas that receive it and the glistening enemy of your vocal supervision, shines annoyingly in the eclectic reflection of misdirection, any corrections liberating this hungry but omnipotent sentience.

Before, when we Stood beneath the perforating explosions, romantically fixed gazing, and entertained by fireworks, respectably admiring the satisfactory combination of dazzling light and deafening sound. We managed to fill the void of each others isolation that we’ve fought, or pretended to ignore. Only after investigatory inspection the idiocy of idiosyncratic misbehavior echoed deliberately but actually insensitively the repentance will not end for a while. Losing grip and tossing the trophy out the window it stares back in disbelief, hands covering his mouth he cannot believe he failed to save the treasure he’d once acquired.

Dithering in past delights, others might not understand the context but the happiness it brings is well deserved.

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