is the place in which desire and discontent join and punctures you. what you felt as reality was merely desire. and similar to that of a wound, or to a trees’ roots ripping from the earth, yearning too agitates and softens you. it’s a shedding of the Others gaze to the fleshy, personal, oozing parts of humility.
now that i am naked and free of my own judgments, now that i am immersed in anguish, i can admit to regret and shame.
physically to yearn is to wane. i am reminiscing over our last time together before you passed. that is, i fold into myself. causing my neck to bend, so my head rests between the hollows of my ribcage and the center of my heart. inside, pools of memories spill onto the surface of my mind, i gather them like a harvest, i lull the pain to sleep.
as i am writing this i am lost. lost to grief. i’ve raised my hands in surrender to the hailing storms of yearning. i am flooded with horrors past.
i am within time a yearning subject, if i am not mending a heartbreak i am caught in a web of traumatic memories. memories of flesh, the shit you don’t want to remember. it’s constantly bleeding out of me, i am the reminiscence of it all. mirrors are secrets i try to forget. instead of reflections i see her, or you, or the millions of life’s mistakes strewn across the sky, as if the constellations.
and yet, sometimes yearning is freeing in it’s terror. i am beautiful because i always accept the consequences. i love to love because i take off my skin and all you see is fear. but to surrender to yearning is stronger than fear.
