It's almost poetic,
The way we give ourselves to others without a second thought,
Just so we could feel something,
Anything,
Other than the holes in our chests.
The aches our hearts give us,
Craving the touch of the one we want most,
To be held,
To be loved,
To be wanted.
So, we give our flesh,
To appease the longing we crave,
In hopes of quieting the demons that claw their way out at night,
Creating craters in the no-mans land we call our love.
To love freely,
To be loved freely,
Is such a beautifully terrifying thing.
Isn't it?
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 3:12 AM UTC
It's almost poetic,
The way we give ourselves to others without a second thought,
Just so we could feel something,
Anything,
Other than the holes in our chests.
The aches our hearts give us,
Craving the touch of the one we want most,
To be held,
To be loved,
To be wanted.
So, we give our flesh,
To appease the longing we crave,
In hopes of quieting the demons that claw their way out at night,
Creating craters in the no-mans land we call our love.
To love freely,
To be loved freely,
Is such a beautifully terrifying thing.
Isn't it?
Request permission to use this poem