Sometimes this feeling comes in violent crushing waves--- I love you, don't leave me --- and I press my forehead to that place on your back between your shoulder blades.
And as I'm collapsed there, immobile, I find a freckle here or there, or I would, I realize with broken vessel horror, if I had not forgotten where to expect a freckle a mole that I once knew exactly. And I'm by fireside, fireplace too hot, bonfire too cold. And I am biking on forest paths, rain starts, trail jagged. A dance floor of awkward strangers. A familiar face I cannot meet the eyes of, for what does "like" mean anyway? And I am feeling pavement beneath foot -- closer, closer still, to forest entrance -- a glance behind shows no one knows I've slipped away.
And I am sinking against door, sob breaking.
And I am pulling at hand to sit with me on bench.
And masks.
And candles.
And I let go.
And I press into friend's arms. And he holds me. And vessels heal. And heart stills. And I breathe in trees and grass and peace.
And you're always just right there over my shoulder, aren't you?
Dark for fear of failure an inner gloom as wide as an eye and
ReplyDeleteFermenting roiling hate death grip in my veins unveiling rancid
Petals flowering forth foul nectar the space between a blink and a
Tear
Death blooms