The myopic interscope

Sitting here kind of languid again. I think it's just the realization that I sometimes desire for the safety of security. I'm riding through one of those moments, where when I look out the window, I'm waving goodbye to birds and clouds. All the while, little knots of infidelity are churning up in my stomach. And I realize,

something's missing.

Or maybe it's because my head hurts from all the wine and karaoke. Why is it that I'm plagued with the feeling that the next time I turn my back, he won't be there anymore? Ask me this two hours ago, I would've said quite the opposite. I think this calls for another walk to the trail in the dark.