That kind of longing you learn once you miss.
Goes by a name only a heart knows how to pronounce,
and doesn’t hesitate to call when you care to listen,
so it absorbs as it unfolds yours every ounce.
Of all the things, it’s absence that can’t be overcome,
a void of crushing torment you have to sustain
alongside hope that one day it will leave.
But that’s like hoping for a night of clear skies
that guides your way home in the middle of the storm.
You might as well sink. As there’s no burden
heavier than the love you can’t give.
A feeling that, once settled in, leaves you asking questions about the meaning of all of this, never hearing back, or worse - learning haphazard explanations. No matter the intention, indifferent to your plans, it’s always there. You know it’s there. Waiting for a dram of attention, ready to overflow you, to petrify your lungs, leaving you gasping for air fighting its waves adrift. A chasm of terrifying depth, frightening the eyes to avert, wanting to never look back. Yet, left unattended for too long hollows the interior with apathy, offering a coup de grace of sweet numbness one step ahead, out of reach, unless you’re willing to take it one step further. The small things come to the rescue, small wins: some chores, routines, comforting others. The clipping works, occasionally watering, but better not reach for the roots, definitely not unprepared.
