mia cantante

A dim light bounce of the dark wall. Like a glimmer of hope across a dark sky. Eyes shut, I sit with my back to the wall. A single source of light directed across falls on my face partially eclipsing my face like the moon.

I think I am deep in thought, or perhaps in a dream where I am thinking. It is a fluttering thought. Never enough for me to reach it. Yet persistent enough for me to pursue. Like the soft tendrils of smoke that breeze past the olfactory senses awakening a yearning of what was and cannot be to an addict on the reform.

The unending gossamer of fancy enraptures me in a perilous spiral of desire. I want it to continue. I want it to tantalize me. I want it to engulf my senses. I want it...

Every time I try to grasp, it slips away like sheer satin through unclenched fingers leaving behind a tingle in the touch and the dismay of loss of that seduction. I want it...

My body arches towards its trail, trying to wrap itself around the faint memory of the residual that still clings to the air reminding me of the forever I have to chase it. I want it...

I weaken. I wake. I want it...

Mia Cantante, I am drowning in the sound of your silence. Still, I want it...