Poetry · poets · Writing

The Longing

It’s freezing in the shade of your absence.
But absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?

No, not for me.
For I’ve planted my heart in the darkest,
Coldest part of my garden,
And the longing grows in its place,
Like weeds choking my budding
Devotion.

Is it the way you whisper my name,
In those eerie moments after nightfall?
Or the way I feel your shadowy fingers,
Reaching out for me,
When you’re not here,
That makes me long for you?

Is it the way I feel your ghostly lips,
Pressed to my skin,
Like you were standing right in front
Of me?

Or the way I remember
Your eyes locking onto mine,
As though you were reading
My secrets,
Like they were lost words written
Onto my soul.

I think it’s the way my blood calls out
To you and dances,
At the mere mention of your name.

Either way,
My need for you,
Grows in the forbidding soil,
Underneath my feet.

I cultivate it with my memories
And water it with my tears.
Manifesting and wishing
For your touch again.

The longing and the emptiness
Bloom.
Thriving in my sadness.
Flourishing in my sorrow.

But my heart holds out hope.
A tiny, glimmer of a dream,
That maybe you think of me,
When I think of you.

That maybe, just maybe,
I’ll see your face again.
Lost in a haze of old memories,
Echoing through my mind like
Unfulfilled wishes,
I still believe that I’ll kiss your soft lips
Again.

So I’ll follow your voice,
Down the hidden path,
To my secret garden,
To see if you’re there,
Waiting for me.

I’ll see if you’re around.
If only in my fantasies.

If only in my dreams.
I’ll see you again.

~KVP
Art: Skull Heads

3 thoughts on “The Longing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.