rip tide

sellout006:

A reckless past

Red flags risen

Furious collision

Forces of nature,

An unpredictable,

Beautiful torrent.

There is no levee

Which could sustain

Intense impetus pull

Uncontainable,

Inconceivable,

this love.

pallid-temples:

Where have you been, my saccharine lover?
Playing in the shadows - prideful and lost.
Her fingers, like vines, a fitting cover -
another bleak chance to wholly exhaust.
But you lied to me, still crushed in her wake;
“You are beautiful with your fingers crossed.”
I soak in false sun, I greedily take
an imitation love underneath frost.
Bitten from scalp to silken roses on my cheek,
intoxicated by the wine on your breath
and soft violence your core had come to seek;
it is desperation you pry from flesh.
You have fallen into the hands of Grace;
a map made of bruises, a broken face.

trixclibrarian:

I am too unsophisticated for legitimate poetry. But I know a little something about loneliness, for you need no formal training in that topic. It remains undisciplined. Cumbersome with wild. 

The loneliness of being alone in the face of something enhanced in the moment by sharing. The empty skate rink. Equally functional but a totally different place altogether than a rink full of people. Or the full movie theater when you came alone without a companionate mate. Or the large round moon of the equinox that prompts a call to your lover across town. Perhaps even across country. Those lonelies all fall roughly in the same categorical circle of want for another. Too much distance. A lack of proximity. 

Then there is the wasp sting lonely that swells and aches and itches all at once in the presence of someone beloved but still overcome, inside, by a sense of misunderstanding. The distance of conscious space. The vast black of no shared common ground. Being together and still feeling desperately alone. 

And even this hideous fate can be broken down, made worse. Because it is one thing to feel alone together based on a lack of understanding, that is at least not the most intolerable position to be in. 

The absolute pinnacle of lonely is when you find yourself in the company of someone who understands you so well, shares your conscious space enough to step in and step back out at will, and thus knows exactly how painful their close, frigid withholding is to you. How it is the absolute worse thing that could happen to you - to have them near and interacting but refusing to acknowledge or directly engage in the deepest aspects of the connection. How it feels like a willful act of violence and you know that, knowing you so well, they must know this - they must know how bad you feel inside and still, here they are present, and presently the cause of your pain. 

And inside that worst of worse lonelinesses is the unavoidable doubt, the self-disregard wrapped in amazed wonder, that you could love someone so much while they drown you in silence and inaction.