It is what keeps me awake at night.
and it shall not be spoken...
But I have always challenged fate haven't I?
Done things the hard way!
Like you....
It keeps me active, and alert, and secretive
Burnt at the edges,
I am the hanging dried rose of our history
I am the love letters set on fire,
and rather immediately,
Snuffed back out.
Within me,
A low and aching beckoning
for you to return home- ceaseless
and without mercy, but for the grace
Of Love and God alone.
Beckoning
For your eyes to look upon me and know.
For your fingers to graze, what they never wanted to let go.
The longing is endured and rivaled by no thing.
You, just as broken and Divine, I am sure...
as Me:
and it scares me not.
It is what keeps me up at night.
A call never come in.
A voice never
Heard again.
A ghost you have for so long been,
Haunting, Haunting
Everything eternal between you and I.
Everything internal for so long denied.
No scissors or rituals successful;
Absence only a temporary bind
As lately, lately...
Daily, Nightly...
Hours by minutes,
You refuse to relieve me,
Or leave me...
The gap between our runaway distance-
I can feel it closing in-
The distance collapsing.
You breathe down my neck, taunting me.
You rest within my aura, reminding me.
You lay awake, nights with me.
Never a word.
(and)
It is almost cruel.
When for so long, I have longed, and needed to hear your voice,
As once we spoke;
and not this distance of compiled air,
Where on words we choke..
But the place where once,
For moments stolen only perhaps...
You knew me intimately.
Deeply.
A place where I had you debating and at the edge
Of whether you wanted to keep me.
A place where I felt home,
However thrown out,
I had become.
It is a Hall,
a record of memory and Love,
I will never forget.
How cruel is the joke,
that you are my only taste of home?
And still...
Of course...
Ever Absent.
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