Cleanser

I don't know if I will ever be able to describe you in the way I truly experience you. When I think of you, I lose the words. I can only feel them. I know you aren't meant for me. I just want to be the red wine that stains your pristinely virgin silk sheets. The guilty pleasure of alcohol, the unsolvable blemish on your person. I want you to try and erase me. I want you, to try your very best, and fail. I need you to know how stretched and scathed I am. Because of you, I can use my eyes like lenses and focus on things directly before me but still recognize the beauty in the blur behind the subject. Every purpose has pain. What is the opportunity cost of me, of a sip of red wine? I was once water, but if water is birth how do I relinquish responsibility of your destruction? For with all your purity, your grace, you will always be sin to me.