Having gone unnamed...
there's a type of intimacy that's
unbearable...what the heart meant
to say, overcome with saying.
In a peopled world of degreed
dearness...meaning is many.
That look, that gesture, that touch,
that word...all full, all empty.
The rawness of conditionality
scared to death of change, which
is death itself.
All feeling is painfully aware of the
inability to take hold...
the outline of the
heart is: I can't let go...the heart
of the heart: I let go.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
Having gone unnamed...
there's a type of intimacy that's
unbearable...what the heart meant
to say, overcome with saying.
In a peopled world of degreed
dearness...meaning is many.
That look, that gesture, that touch,
that word...all full, all empty.
The rawness of conditionality
scared to death of change, which
is death itself.
All feeling is painfully aware of the
inability to take hold...
the outline of the
heart is: I can't let go...the heart
of the heart: I let go.
