drink in love's lustful, obsessive need - prose

the third hour of waiting brings the respite of wavering blues and purples, scrubbing the dingy stage in salacious, indulgent color. the thick black curtains sway with concealed movement on their tension rods, careening shadows beneath them. 

this is not a popular band. the crowd does not go wild when the lead vocalist comes to adjust the bass amp, to click in cables to a microphone. they chatter over IPAs and cocktails, uncaring of the angel descended from the wings to pluck one plastic key on a synth.

my eyes are glued to him and the brown sweater he wears. it must be comfortable, he wears it often. i cannot see his eyes from where i sit in the back. i know they are decadent honey-brown flecked with silver, i do not need to see them again. i want to. 

he retreats behind the curtains once more. bargoers laugh about life’s mundanities; they should be on hands and knees and praying. 

i have never been a pious man, but i believe in god when the angel comes back to clear his throat through the speakers and apologize for the delay in his saccharine voice. it’s okay, i think. i have time.

he continues worrying at the equipment. how like him, to be fiddling still. he is handed a glittering bass from someone that does not matter.

i die, i am sure of it, when he plucks a chord and croons. the words ring church bells in my head. i convince myself he sings every lyric directly to me. 

...

i wish i knew why i can't seem to give myself to you

...

lover, lover!
i am waiting for you!
lover, lover!

...

january tastes like everything i love about your eyes

...

but if you come along and spoke to everything that's wrong
i'd know it's cause you know me as someone i wanna be

...

you're an angel, and i've come to watch you fly
yeah, you're an angel, would you take me to the sky?

...

i'll say a prayer for you
would you say a prayer for me?

...

i watch him in rapture, unblinking. my only goal is to memorize the shape of his voice in my heart, the way he looks at me through the crowd, the heat of the blood that drips from his fingers. 

i do not stay to talk to him after; i drive home and worship him. prayers leave my lips in desperate gasps, and i think i will love him infinitely. 

...

my sail stood empty, motionless at sea
when from some far shore, i heard you call to me
once i swam across the water,
i fell in your arms and found relief
so just look right at me, and do not say a thing
cause i feel like i'm reaching my wit's end, and found a place to rest my head
so let me stay here next to you, and i will say i love you too