untitled

I find that my
Desire is inconvenient and
Stubborn.
It is not content with the
limitations imposed on it
My want is relentless in its
Assault on my defenses
Constantly expressing its need to be appeased
My desire is not pleased by this
Lack of stimulation and
Manual simulations only lead to
Reinforced frustrations.

My hands are tired.

Fingers stiff from fists clenched with
No one's skin but my own beneath them to
Absorb the impact
What do lovers do with their hands
When they have no one to touch?
The answer revealed in
Marks left on my palms by my own fingernails
Passion imprinted
Imprisoned and
Praying to be released into the land of the loving

I don't know how much time I've served but
Surely it has been more than one life sentence because
My desire has forgotten
What it feels like to be on the outside

A prisoner's daydreams are their hope and their undoing and
I am unraveling.
Trying to hold myself together without the glue of bonding and
My arms are weary.

I am exhausted from wanting.

17 Months Later

I hate that you affected the way I talk

Some of my words serve as reminders of you

I want my voice back

My heart was not returned to me

In the same condition that I gave it to you in

I pray it isn't worse for wear but

I realize that it is much too ragged now

To be worn on my sleeve

And my voice...

It is torn at seams that were once twice stitched

It buckles and sags and wrinkles in places where

It did not falter before

My hands have newer lines

Creases left from holding on so tightly

Gripping you instead of pens because

Loving you was writing

Loving you was righting the wrongs

Laid beneath your feet like concrete paths

My attempts to alter your destiny

Only made me question mine.

Surely, loving will be the death of me

Because my body has a finite supply of blood

And my heart pumped most of it through your veins

In an effort to revive you

And I waited

And third day passed, fourth appeared, and you had not resurrected

I suppose you

Carried my love with you into your next life

A life that did not include me.

I've gone through myself and discovered

That there are pieces of me missing

And I have to somehow patch those holes.

When you decided to leave me behind

I wish you had left all of me.