Sad Songs and Waltzes

Am I gritting my teeth even now? The promise of the barren aftermath of stormy emotion makes it difficult to relax into whatever awaits. Whether it's sadness or relief or some other sort of funk. Maybe that's why I stretch out even the saddest of sessions. Reluctant to let the silence settle in. Apprehensive in the face of all-too-familiar mornings after when the memory of tears is vacant and lost. Maybe that's why I sometimes seek out the suffering. Yearning to feel. Obstinate in my refusal to let it all pass away into numb history. Even happy memories can trigger that bittersweet sort of nostalgia that feels more like pain than pleasure. Maybe that's why I prefer to remember.

So, baby, kiss me like a drug like a respirator
And let me fall into the dream of the astronaut
Where I get lost in space that goes on forever
And you make all the rest just an afterthought
And I believe it's you who could make it better
But it's not