A love thriving in our longing


I still think of you the first thing I wake up in the morning
and I miss you on my lonely evenings: someone to talk to.
And sleeping and dreaming I get lost in scary nightmares.
But as soon as we talk (again) I don’t miss you at all: it all
ends up in fussing about everything and nothing and then
my bowels can’t bowling their lanes, all in pains! Desires?
Yes, but as we cannot get along in practice I believe we are better off without the other: it’s a love thriving in longing.

(The dusty web of time will fade the love framed and give it that brownish romantic patina. Yet, it takes time to forget someone you love and want, if so only in your dreams.)
(And it should.)


rose, whiterose, white

Det här inlägget postades i dreamers, loneliness, longing, loss, lost, love poem, melancholy, memories, missing, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, romance och har märkts med etiketterna , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bokmärk permalänken.


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