Libidine

A longing of sorts for something almost indescribable. A scratch that you have to itch or it will drive you wild. Not love or anything substantial or philosophical as that. It is more primal and instinctive. It is almost stronger than free will. Wanting in a basic form that starts within and slowly eats it way out until it is on your skin, waiting to jump off and fly. 

I used to paint

Until you said my acrylics smelled

I used to dream

Until you said I should be happy

I used to write

And now I am again.