It’s painful. The aching and crying and the drinking. The drinking is the worst. I crave it at this point. It helps numb the heart. Helps with moving through each day. My favorite is a sweet but somewhat dry red wine. Pair that with some stuffed grape leaves, drenched in olive oil and lounge seductively across my Tiffany grey velvet chaise in my black satin robe. Nothing makes a woman feel sexier than the sensation of such richness against the skin. At least with a glass in hand and candles lit, it’s warming enough for me to feel comfortable. Care to know a secret? Those who drink always find a love that’s able to cure the misery. I should stop.
But I find you in more ways whenever I bring glass to lips. I can taste you over and over again.
I don’t want to stop drinking, especially since I feel like I’m that much closer to spilling myself over just for you, lover.
Am I crazy? Well, you’re not mine so how else should I cope my dear?