7th Moon

I haven't seen moonlight in what feels like forever.
I made a T-shirt for Valentine's Day one year in college that read "All You Need Is Vodka".
It was hot pink with pale pink letters.
I hold my breath as I type. I believe its because I type as I speak, but one can never be sure.
I've noticed that most of the arguments I have on paper are with myself.
Just me. All me.
My two favorite Beethoven pieces are the darkest.
They move me.
Towards what, to feeling what, to being what, I doubt I'll ever know.
Why is such a simple word, but the [single] hardest in the English language to answer.
I'm sitting here with my shoulders to my ears.
I must put you away. Goodnight to you. And You.