This dreadful longing is perusing my thoughts like an open book and slashing every page meant for something other than love. This longing is histrionic.

We touch, we feel, we stop.

An ending with no climax each time.
A repeat of a loop, a rat stuck running the wheel.

I want it to rise. Like one of those long forgotten buried cities taking back the desert fist first.
I want my strong statue by my side. Those earth shattering legs. Temple of a man.

The candles are lit. The magic of incense kissing the space between. It is only missing you.

I venerate when I love. I cannot help myself but feel. Deeply. Each second accounted for. I am… we are… I am… we are.

I cannot trust glares anymore.
Start of chemistry, shattered vial, a hazardous leak, lab shutdown.

No more sailors, I have decided again. They all keep drowning in the sea.

Maybe I belong to the earth. But I know I don’t.
Either air or water but not earth. I am either in the heights of the mountains or deep underwater.

Or maybe I will never find the right one. And what if I don’t? I will sing songs to a Kosmos. I will praise the dark mantle that nurses the earth. Maybe I must stop thinking that a lover is a man. Maybe I shall only praise love for the unknown. Love for love’s sake. Praise to what I see that I like and makes me feel enamoured with living.

Maybe the key is in finding and treating the findings like relics. Freedoms, luxuries and necessities. Treating myself in an honoring way and respecting those around me, not crossing their space.

I must put to rest the idea of love as I imagine it to be. I must give rise to a new idea. I must free my mind from attachments and expectations, but I will force nothing. I will release the tension in the body.