Bottle it

So in spite of the sedatives I've recently been prescribed (favorite pharmacologist line: "you don't have a history of violence, do you?"), I've felt nervy, jittery, on the edge between collapse and flight all day. My stomach's been dodgy and my hands have occasionally shaken. Were it not such a dangerous high (if taken too often), I would wish that delicious anticipation could be bottled.

Today's anticipation lasted well into the evening, and only slowly stopped bubbling over, as if moved to low heat, once I realized the connection I'd looked forward to was not on the cards for tonight.

The buzz is wearing off at last, helped along no doubt by convenient pharmaceuticals. I can't take it personally; I know him, he hasn't avoided me - he's fallen asleep. I can just hope to see him tomorrow night instead...because no matter what, I have felt it and will do what is required to feel it more, again, more again.

But it seems such a shame to let this effervescence go flat, or evaporate. As though something, sometimes the one thing, delightfully sweet in me has been allowed to fizz and fall out.