Distanced

(<— 6ft—>)

(Paragraphs and Poems)

My thoughts….

I am raw from the longing, touch deprived, and pining over the people and things I thought I’d never have. This time has been crushing, and though I found joy and selfhood in the rubble, these two years of forced hermitage has left me with a lingering feeling of constant wanting. For me, being alone is not a new sensation, but, this time a visceral internal craving is there, trying its best not to alter itself into a need for people; people whose lives are also cluttered with the deafening sounds of empty rooms. My need for a caress, for some care, for comforting company fills me with the selfish desire to reach over the 6ft of distance, crossing the line just to hold something.

But, a part of me knows that the distance I keep is not caused solely by the sickness. It is also the things on the other side of the longing. If I’m honest I have always wanted those things (and that person), but now the vacancy caused by this endless time of no distractions, leaves my “feelings of wanting” the space to quietly cry out like the Tell-Tale Heart. For now, I’ll keep my yearning below the floorboards, waiting for something to strike me with enough courage to own up to the crime of neglecting my heart.

Distance, longs for Something (a poem)

Carefree days fill me, full of myself.

My Laughter is hard and loud,

The time is exquisite

Brimming till my cup runneth over

but

my bed is cold, my lips are dry,

My hands un-held,

Compelled, to write longing lines of sentimental lust

Emotional wishes crave to be held by Something….

My sleep is pleasing, but when I wake I find my sheets are shaped like you,

Filling the holes, hollow spaces in my bed,

Where Something is supposed to be