More of the Same

Biding my time in a lost line of thought,
for every word I write - ten more are not.
I am at a loss for what to say to you.
After all that has been said and done…
after all we’ve been through.
Seemingly broken here, there isn’t a way ahead.
Constantly we find ourselves in the company of each other’s misery.
 
All too often we wander down this twisted path before us –
delicate and intricately intertwined webs we weave.
We force discontent to mean something more than what it is,
all for the sake of policy and image.
Societies’ convention of what this isn’t or is.
Fitting in our mold of another’s vision, handcrafted with our fingers interlocked.
 
The distance is unbearable.
Your sweet scent, divine, and calling to me.
Dark tendrils of silky smooth brown waving at me.
Knowing you want me to take you and make us one.
The piercing in my chest, clawing away my insides.
The desperation seeping from my pores for all to see, barely containing my misery.
 
Wishing for something more than a dwelling thought, wishing for something we can’t hold between our finger tips, wishing for the ability to forget us, wishing for a reality where we could be one in this world, wishing I would have never destroyed our thoughts of what it means for us to coexist.