As I was working tonight, the window open to coax a small breeze inside to relieve the hot dampness of this late summer air, in with the breeze floated a voice.  Just across from the window is a little bar above a spiral staircase and a lane.  Inside the bar was some kind of music, a girl was singing and the smallness of the bar was filled with people listening.  The voice brought with it a sweetness and a profound sorrow.  The world was in that voice.  It held so much of everything and it cut into my flesh and reopened my wounds, letting the blood flow down until it dripped onto the floor.  I remembered the past as I listened.  Remembered nights of such sweetness, with the moon high overhead, reflected across the sea, and a girl with her head in my lap as I stroked her hair and called us both into life; days of time spent talking and laughing and being in the moment, until the moment was gone.  And then it was gone forever.  And it will never return.  And the blood flows down to drip on the floor, and I ache, and I don’t know how to put it all back in.  She told me she was dangerous but I didn’t believe her.  I told her I would offer up my heart to be broken, but I didn’t know what it would cost.  And now we don’t talk, and that is the hardest thing.


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