Wine or whiskey 

If hope were wine then I’d be drunk half the time, but despair is just as kind as wine but with whiskey instead. 

 Caught betwixt hope and despair, in desire, only for you. 

I drink deeply of water and watch my twin demons of hope and despair stagger about. But time is passing without touch or word, and while my mind sits above the fray and understands the why, my heart sits near, in ache and missing you. My heart it yearns, it needs, it desires. Always moving closer to you. My head wants the same but knows why that is not happening, yet.

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