You Can’t Make ‘Em Drink.
It was like being drunk, the way he made her feel.
That giddy sensation of happiness and lightheartedness, the ability to forget about the troubles and worries. The buzz and tingle that followed his touch. The floating glow that came after imbibing to the fullest.
But it didn’t last. It never lasted.
Because, as long as she was drinking… it felt great; she – felt wonderful.
But she wasn’t allowed to keep it.
No matter how she felt… no matter what she did, or said – or didn’t say.
He didn’t want that.
He told her from the start, he never wanted forever. It wasn’t part of who he was, and he couldn’t give her that.
She knew it, deep in her bones.
But it didn’t stop her from feeling the regret when the giddy drunkenness wore off.
That hangover of what could have been. What they could have had.
It took her forever to accept it, that it would never be.
That you can lead them to the water… but you can never make ’em drink.
And she turned out the light as he walked away – again – for the last time.
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