Drunk with you

What is it about you? Seriously, what exactly is it that keeps me so bound, so captive within my heart? What sorcery is this, that doesn’t let me have enough of anything you say or do?

Is it your fragrance, that reminds me of the warm autumns I used to spend back at home, with brown leaves strewn across the courtyard and the musty smell of old tree trunks wafting in the air?

Or is it your touch that shivers every fiber of my body, with a rage I have known not?

Is it your warm embrace that fits perfectly into mine, or is it the split of a second when your beautiful brown eyes sneak a peek at me during a kiss?

So many questions I ask, and you don’t give me any answers. I say, you do feel a lot like my life at the moment.
But seriously, what is it?

I am tired of this silence around me. No voices ask me to stop falling; no hands pull me out when I drown into a pool of memories every single night. Ironically, the only sounds I hear are the deafening fathoms of silence and the only hands I see are the ones pulling me deeper into the abyss.

I cannot keep going like this; I certainly cannot keep going like this. I sure am in transit, but I’m travelling back and forth. And each time, I circle a few blocks and end up at one of my least favorite spots, at square one!

What has happened to me? I seem like a different person, even to my own self. I used to write my own songs back in the day, but now my pen longs to be within my fingers. I used to play those songs too, but now my guitar throws me glares of indignation from a corner of the room. I used to read stories about love and war, now my books don’t delight me with the fresh smell of paper. I used to sketch my own dreams, and now, dream is all I do. In a flash, my life turned into these “used to’s” and I didn’t even notice. Until now of course, and I’m afraid it’s too late. It’s always too late.

Yes, I fell in love, but why does it have to be such a pain? Why do my fears always cripple me down, when all I want to do is run to you for love? I wish I could Google the answers, but life is not a search engine, it is a question bank with no answers. One would argue that wine could make the questions easier, but alcohol does not get me drunk, what I am drunk with, is you. And I have a feeling this hangover is going to last forever.

With all of it said, there’s one last thing; I love you. And I still hope it’s you and me in the end.