They tried
to catch me with friendly invites. Make me theirs. I had left the loving
distant arms of my god, I had lost my religion. But I didn’t turn into the
seeker they would expect. I wasn’t lost. I was losing, but I wasn’t lost.
Without a mother, without a spring to cling to, thirsty but not sipping for drops.
I wanted to become my own well. And nothing would fill it like you could. So I
politely rejected the offers. They couldn’t possibly know how deeply it craved,
how wholly it would have to be cemented. Their affection would simply slip
through the cracks and again fill the surroundings to feed a flower or a tree.
But my core had been emptied. I needed the warmth of fluid lava. I was cold
like Mars in the black of night. As I turned away they wouldn’t survive a
minute. Only the ghost of you could walk these barren lands. Only the ghost of
you could get an undisputed truth. Perhaps you wouldn’t want it. And perhaps
you would walk away, silently slide to the side, keep in your course firm just like
the rest.
So be it.
This is all I have, the deep empty well craving unspeakable things.
Close as your ear pressed up on my breast and we cant tell our beats apart.
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