It’s back.

The familiar ache radiating through my chest.
It steals my breath.
It hurts my stomach.
It makes my eyes leak.
I try to hold it.
Love it.
Accept it.
Understand it.
Connect with it.

Yet nothing seems to comfort it.

It’s a searching. An existential longing. A yearning.

It fills and is left unfilled.

Have I chosen it?
Or has it chosen me?

Loneliness

Is it to be released?
Or asked to release me?