There is nothing left to say but the poets keep trying and with the full moon hung high in the sky as it glitters through the blinds, I am drinking chilled rose wine in a hot vanilla bath unsure if it is the gravitational pull of the universe which has me agitated or it’s just a passing mood. Perhaps agitated isn’t right, it isn’t a sexual craving but at the same time it is not completely devoid of a sensual nature. Something in the way melancholy drapes itself across my mind in the evening is a cocktail of deep sadness, dark mystery and a kind of kneading arousal which I suspect emanates from an inescapable feeling of desperation. Even at a young age I fell in love with, or became addicted to, longing. That sense of a low sweet tugging seems to be always at the strings of my solemn heart, tied like a weight at the tip of my soft pink tongue, worn bare upon my sleeve. People come and go in and out of my life without so much as a passing glance but once in a while there is a person who sees beneath my smile to the hope I have inside of being understood. It is rare and I have long since stopped holding my breath in anticipation. We breathe and we cry and we swivel our hips at the bottom of a bottle which holds our head in the lap of another sifting midnight. Moving my hands beneath the silky water I watch as the bubbles form strange shapes like white soapy clouds moving out over the hills in the distance and for a moment I am warm and safe and very far away from the pain of this chaotic place. Out the window the sky turns to purple sapphire and little stars begin to pierce through as twilight blossoms along the tops of the pointy naked trees. I pull a hand above the water and run it slowly down my chin and trace the long elegant curve of my neck, feeling the hot bath water slide liquid heat along my skin. I think of you but only in a flickered wing of thought, a flash of an image of passion and lust. You knelt at my feet, your mouth at the center of my burning desire, your movements forceful and your body generous, pouring all of yourself into me. My fingers move slowly caressing my body down. The way you would have spread me like innocence, exposed me like truth. We contemplate so little in this life though we think we have it all figured out. And even though I have come close to recognizing myself in other lost ones out there, the reckless and the mad, the holy and the troubled, there is a shadow inside me which eclipses my view, a darkness I cradle and just can’t shake.