what is there to say

I’m not sure there’s ever been a day when tenderness has filled me, always yearning, searching, laying in a pool of love waiting to be filled.

I am always thirsting, parched at the soul, wishing there was something to fill my desert heart.

A long draught, and then I say another. A long drought, and then I say another.

Nothing can fill me but the sweet memory of our everlasting touch.

Everything is but a void, a placeholder between the realms of being filled.

Does anyone understand the feeling of emptiness, the creeping sickness that fills me in this empty space

A chasm with nothing to fill it

I knew who I was

But the pain was in remembering why

And now, each passing moment only ails me more

Whispers

Echoes

Wisps of wind

Unravel me again and again

But do not leave me this time

The world is too full of light to be a shadow on my own