Maudlin Mind
And sometimes I imagine there is still something between us, that there'll be a moment and we'll revert to the old relationship. Sometimes I imagine that there is a palpable tension, that this look here or that word there carried a world of meaning, and it's only a matter of time before things are set right again. I lose myself in soothing fantasies spurred by loneliness of mind and soul, by impatience, by familiar vision divorced from familiar sensation.
Should I draw back? I ask myself. What good would cutting off an old scar do? No, I wait for phantom emotions to fade, for true camaderie to finish its emergence from burnt soil.
To be apart is painful - yet to be close is painful, also. A whiff of intimacy arouses memories, the longing to touch, to kiss, to be close... yet I maintain the proper distance: I'll take the crumbs that whet my appetite in hope that I will eventually have my fill - or that I will discover another with whom I may feast.
Why do I cry if the wound is closed?
Should I draw back? I ask myself. What good would cutting off an old scar do? No, I wait for phantom emotions to fade, for true camaderie to finish its emergence from burnt soil.
To be apart is painful - yet to be close is painful, also. A whiff of intimacy arouses memories, the longing to touch, to kiss, to be close... yet I maintain the proper distance: I'll take the crumbs that whet my appetite in hope that I will eventually have my fill - or that I will discover another with whom I may feast.
Why do I cry if the wound is closed?