Mellow

I am sad. I don’t know how it’s possible to be so lying in a hammock, swaying in the breeze licking remnants of chocolate off your fingers, but I am sad. A swamping melancholic wave of it like a warm old blanket.

I came out here tonight high just on the novelty. For the first time in weeks it felt like I’d shrugged off the latent tenseness that has been cloaking me. The irritability, the prickliness I’ve attributed to bad sleep, no sleep, terrible eating habits, not enough sugar, not enough gym, too much gym. Anything to deflect from what’s really been bothering me. And for a while, watching the flickering lights, it all went, so mellow I nearly melted through the fibres.

I want it back, that instant of perfection. The gentle eroticism of the early Spring breeze as it licked my skin, caressed my hair. The warmth of my blood as it prickled through, heated by sensation and awareness. That molten puddle of gold reflected in my eyes.

I don’t know how to fix this. I just know that I don’t want to and I have to.