How can all the cities be filled but yet the world feel so alone?


Sometimes the desolate feelings swallow me whole. The other times I'm reminded of the vapid space between me and the feelings of meaningful connections I miss. It sometimes makes you feel unlovable - a desperate cry for recognition. To be felt in a way that says, I see you clearly. Text messages unanswered lead to late night sobs trying to remember I can't be the only one missing humanity and feeling less than here. Depression creeps over in the next room to let me know I am not alone in this. Social media has a twisted way of reminding me the world still turns even though mine has stopped spinning. Some days I just want to say I am here, maybe just existing but I am here. Ready to tell you I miss you. Ready to hold your hand; any hand that reaches back out between me and spaces of my heart that feel like an oblivion. Ready to do life in a way that says I'm happy to be here, to be with you. To be in a moment that feels like I am finally once living again. To be in a space that says your presence is felt. To be loved for the sake of just loving. I once read quote that said 60% of Americans report  feelings of loneliness... For just a second I feel a slight relief in the pressure. That I am sharing something with someone for just a moment. That selfish gratefulness is all that hangs between me and nose.

I am not alone in this even though the cities are filled and once again my apartment is empty.

I attempt to speak the truth without giving myself with it.
That’s the hard balance between being honest and being transparent.
Its always a white lie teetering on the story of who we use to be.

Sometimes I still hear the snap of the belt against my skin.
It's why I still flinch when a stranger steps to close in proximity.
My heart often rises in a flight of birds.
Just trying to escape the cold rush of December.
It flutters trying to keep up with registering between fight or flight.
My feet often start running before I.
Often mistaking a pen dropping for a bomb.
Regardless I am gone before I ever arrive anywhere.
Half checked into a place I can never just leave.
My milestones are the intermittent fasting between therapy sessions.
We often talk of the stuff we carry;
but leave the pages blank on the things we must live with.

The truth is I don't want to be a lingering after thought. A space that fills void. An unattainable purge of what you have been lacking. A comma in the break of a sentence, I've been in to many situationships to idealize anything less than romantic. To many almost & could have been something's. It's like a reflection of the sun but the heat never dissipates close enough for me to know it's real. The existence of it leaves my soul aching in hunger even though my belly is full. Maybe that's the difference of it, getting high off sugar and the other endorphins. One the body can sustain, the other just a flicker of a high that last as long as the burst of affection. To be desired is a supernova of lust. It's a star that burned out centuries ago but the light still fools you into believing it's present. To be loved is like the moon and all of its phases because even when the moon shows up in parts, you know it's wholly still there. Still yours. Still will rise again tomorrow.

I’m still putting together the pieces of what that feels like –
Leaning in over the table paying no attention of the peripheral vision.
I whisper we can skip dinner just eat me instead.
The drinks run dry and I am overflowing.
My apartment?
I wrapped my hand around yours like the perfect present.
In the moments I am thy wholly myself –
I am in love.
Maybe not with this man but this moment.
& that’s so **** confusing.
Cause this moment wouldn’t be as it is without you –
I slip in the car hoping my dress rides up.
Placing all the intentions I had for the night in the backseat.
I am happy & for this moment – that’s all that matters.
So, I turn on the radio and pause for whatever feels good.
This car ride,
These Santa Cruz mountains,
The music,
& your hand grazing my leg.
I am babbling on;
who knows about quite what?
But I remember it coming from the heart, unfiltered as the moonlight.
There is no better feeling -
arriving as yourself to somewhere you never planned.
I take the long way back to my apartment.
Just so I can hold onto that just for a second more.
It took a lot of these steps to walk into the notion it is I taking You home.
A confidence the opens every door & says I am here as is.
Our bodies fold into each other stepping through my apartment.
Every desire entangled as our legs mirror and cross through the sheets.
Usually by this time I’ve already came up with a reason why not?
But his gaze as I bite his lip tells me this is the only self-assurance I need.
That utter freeing feeling of I want you.
It feels good to let go.
Allowing yourself to reach climatical moments that leave you breathless.
Leave you saying baby yes, give me more…
Give me more life.
& moments that shatter all my preconceived notions about love.
About love not having to be a person
but a place,
a moment,
a smell,
a dream…
Another reason to wake up and & say - I am happy to be here.
Because there is so much in life we must move through,
that whatever brings you closer to you is something you choose.
There’s a lot in life we can say yes too.

& I might be still putting together what this feels like....
But I do know just by saying yes; you are saying who you are.

Tongue tied like shoelaces.
I don't need an explanation or proclamation.
Walk out the door without a second take.
Baby, don't you see?
How you leave is an art.

She's morning coffee.
            
            The French pressed kind.

Her taste lingers
                      
                      far after breakfast.

Pour me another cup.