And, settling into loneliness. Again…
*What A Fool Believes by the Doobie Brothers on repeat*
It is a different kind of empty loving and wanting someone who does not love or want you back.
There is no phrase coined for it. I have simply taken to calling it
Because the emptiness here is newer to me than my previous downs. I am not familiar with the torture that comes with every day waking and knowing you are alone in your thinking, in your loving, in your
The depths we swim through to catch our match is a tiring course of laps. I am a light breather. My arms are muscular from constant strokes in staying above water, but lately, I have lost my stamina.
I feel myself breaking.
There can be no retreat.
Everywhere I turn, you are there.
And, you never leave. I have written it out more than enough times to know that writing it out is not enough. The life raft I have been searching for did not come. There are no Coast Guards. I am out here
Swimming in water too hot to carry me home in the hold of your high tide. Pierced in both sides are your words. They sting but soothe. How can this be possible?
This dance, this casual dance we do around what needs to be said is taxing. My bones are withering, fragile in their state, leaning on a chance that
A fool believes whatever you will tell her. There are no questions. There is no need to wonder if every word is valuable. It simply is.
But when love becomes a jaded fad skipping in full of sass and appeal, we manage to hang on, thinking we will be next.