livingoutloud

My hands look old tonight.

I went out. Rounds were bought, stories were told, bullshit was passed off as truth, and by all measures it was a lovely evening.
I walked home still a bit unsatisfiedbut it is an old sort of feeling, familiar even. Im beginning to realize that I may never be rid of it, and this tentative peace Ive built with it may be the best there is.
I rode back to Rhonda's house listening to the soft plaintive whine of Lori Mckenna.
I walked quietly around to the backyard, dropped my keys in the grass, and began to undress. I slipped into the hot tub, stared up at the sky, listened to the silence, and did my damnest to drown the din in my head.