Moan.

Maybe this is how the sane lose their mind, or maybe it's the way to find something. I'm open for the sky and chanting, chanting away.

Lover,
Lover,
Lover.

It's what I keep telling myself. That's all I have to be or… find. Finality. The Note that is always escaping me.
You know best how to use your sublime abuse, and my knuckles are thrashed red from it. That certain way you touch me leaves me tingling, wanting for more. Waiting for more. Aching is a better word for it, but I wait still.

Waiting,
Waiting,
Waiting.

It all comes down to this. What comes after is nothing. Or everything. I've never been there because I've always been here waiting. For what, you ask? The note before The Note. It's all too logical for me to understand. The way you tell me you don't want to go 'there' with me is all I can think of. All I cannot think of, too. Are you understanding me yet?

Summons,
Summons,
Summons.

Like the ringing of a bell, the thrill of a shiver… mouth open and eyes closed. I look at myself one last time before I undress. I know that my eyes aren't filled enough for a whole life with you. Maybe they never will have the glimmer you want.
I tell myself to put on the dress. Just put on the damn wedding dress. Something will leave, I know it.

Leaving,
Leaving,
Leaving.

That desire is leaving because it must. I need my sanity. I need to get away from wanting emotions. I want an absence of faith to clear the sick feeling in my head and stomach. I want God. Which is...

Ridiculous.

Because He left.

More than anything, I think, I want you to moan for me. In my ear. Across every inch. So I can know that it's all we are. A moan.