Melancholia

You’re in my head
And I cannot shake you free
Wish you’d kiss me once
And then maybe I could be
Wrapped in your warmth when you’re not around
Wish you were here to lay my fears to ground

Fears that I will think
Of you every single night
Fears that you will fade from me
Fade right out of sight
I doubt you even think of me
Far away you are
I doubt that you will think on me
When the darkness fades to stars

Our time has been, our time has gone
It seems we both have lost
Wanting what we cannot have
Missing it the most
If I even thought you felt the same
I’d meet you past halfway
To kiss your lips and feel your warmth
If only for a day…

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Futility

Another night. Another night of going to bed alone. Another night where you sit in front of a pixelated screen that engages you more than interacting with someone you say is “the love of your life”.

I can’t begin to know the depth of your feelings. In truth, I don’t know how deeply you feel. Isn’t that sad? In some respects it seems as though you are as emotionally vacant and distant as my father seemed when I was a young girl and believed everything to be my fault. But I digress. 

So, you sit, engaged with a screen that has no bearing on the life beyond it. That cannot keep you warm. That cannot cry, with you or for you or because of you. That cannot be angry or afraid or hurt or warm or in love or in awe or just wrap arms around you and say “be present with me. Be open with me and to me. Be for me what I ache to be for you”.

Is this really what it’s all for? Is this really why we open our eyes in the morning? To kiss the air beside our cheeks as we rush off to different paths, to meet again, briefly, at the end of the day when our hearts and minds are weighted with the burdens of the day? Burdens that aren’t shared. Concerns that aren’t discussed. Triumphs or lessons or hurts that aren’t valued or vital or soothed. Like air trapped in bubbles on the breeze, drifting away out of sight, to burst beyond the reach of heart or vision, and settle on another’s gaze or shoulders or heart. How long until vision is turned outward, beyond the home threshhold, to other hearts? Where is our point of connectedness? Where is our shared space? Where are our hearts aligned? 

I am not emotionally resilient. I am not emotionally sturdy. I have dark days and light days and days where I just don’t know. Some days I just am. Some days I am, just barely. But I always imagined I would be, at whatever stage and in whatever place, *with* someone, present with someone. I cannot shake the sense that we are two bubbles in space, at the mercy of the eddies, drifting in our own individual spheres of existence, buffeted by challenges, caressed by successes, but always in separate bubbles. 

Cows and Grass

Sometimes I look at cows and wonder, do they get tired of eating the same grass all the time? Do they search the paddock for different grasses, different plants, different flowers? Does it all taste the same? Do they wonder if that grass over the other side is greener or might taste different, and that’s why they put their head through the fence, even if its barbed wire? To brave the pain, and taste the grass that’s almost out of reach, while still trying to stay in the safety of their paddock? What if the grass outside still tastes the same but they are caught by the fence? What if the grass does taste better? Or what would happen if the fence was gone? Then what? Would they be brave enough to still taste the unknown? Or would the fence that’s been there for so long still remain in their mind?
Maybe its just easier to stay in the same paddock and eat the same grass.
Sometimes I wonder about cows.

Yes, some days I wonder if the grass is greener or a different type, when the grass I have isn’t exactly wrong, just…monotonous. And no matter how I try to change the environment the grass is growing in, or add some flavour to the grass, or toss a few flower seeds in to add some colour, it’s still…just…grass…