Then it dawned on me this morning while making breakfast, self worth, have I really strayed so far from my core that I have lost sight of this elementary truth? While I have been engaged trying to share warmth with her, And receive warmth from her, Warmth from the world, can the world give one worth? It does, yet through my own lens. Then there are some that I cannot give to myself. Like tender mouths, touch, the feeling of bodies becoming transparent to each other as they twist, grasp brutally, caress, unknot.
These are beauties only lovers know. These are that which I desire, from her, or from some where that I have not yet met. There is loss, rejection, desire. How can one contain these voices and maintain worth? Self love? I make the long voyage away from lover back to self containment, my own happiness, my worth.
I speak to her within my own vortex of fictitious dialogue . “It doesn’t feel good to me, hanging out with you.” “I give always to you, you cannot give to me what I need, or what I want, or you don’t.” but you never hear this coming out of my mouth, because you will never ask. That is what is meant by this feels bad, and you don’t give me what I need, which differs with what I want, in that what I want is a lover.
need
Just to be received, cared for, cared about, facilitated, nurtured. Ahhhhh. Release. Breath, ok that no emailed poem, text, or call in the night will save me. Loitering in dreams does help a bit. The scrambled imagery of woman from my life and ones of the dreamers invention, taunting, placating. And then eventually one must get up.
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