Apéritifs: In the months leading up to the release of our book A Single Throat Opens, a collaborative lyric exploration of addiction, we will be compiling a playlist pairing songs with new writing to be enjoyed before the main course. Cheers, friends.
Lying to You
All memory is a form of longing. And desire lines my neurons, like ice along branches in mid-January Ohio. Each shiver sends a tremor through boughs that once, warmed in the sun, made something beautiful.
When you left, memory and desire merged. You once described me as limbs on fire and dancing. I’ve spent years shrinking at the thought of becoming ash in all the fire of my want. I’ve added ice to my drinks, a way to quiet the burn. Only to learn that though flesh burns, bones don’t.
And right now all I can think of to say: drink up. Drink up the sweating drink, drink up the longing, drink up every lie.
Desire in retrospect can so easily be viewed as a trick, a lie. You are a ghost in that way, a trick on the eye when I look behind me, in a darkened room, alone with nothing but the wind coming in under the crack in the door.