The Abyss of My Soul

What remains unspoken finds its place here.

[abyssofmysoul]

I dream of you, coming to curl up in my arms.

I dream of you, wrapping your arms around me from behind as I slip into bed, thinking you’re asleep.

I dream of you, gently taking the book from my hands just to hold me close.

I dream of you, taking my face in your hands and drawing it closer to yours.

I dream of you, softly caressing my cheek.

I dream of you, running your hand through my hair.

I dream of you, gazing into my eyes with love.

I dream of you, desiring me in a way I’ve never been desired before.

I dream of you, pulling me toward you.

I dream… and you don’t exist.

[abyssofmysoul]

I gave up. I no longer believe. Sitting there, I hoped for a gesture, a movement, anything that might bring us closer. I spun a thousand scenarios in my mind, me lost in my music, them walking toward me, stepping over, leaning in to kiss me as the melodies consumed my soul. But every time my mind opened its eyes, a single arm’s length kept us apart. They never made that move. I was always alone there, with my hopes, my dreams, my fantasies.

So I stopped believing, even though my heart still pounds against my ribcage, my throat tightens until I feel I could suffocate. Time slips by, and every time I touch those pieces of myself that it inevitably catches, I realize it’s over for me. I will never feel that again, and I will die drowned in my own tears

[abyssofmysoul]

And then, lying on the couch, I raised my arms to stretch, and I stopped, imagining that someone might take advantage of that moment to slip in close to me with a smile, while I would rest my arms around them. And I froze, my heart froze. I felt a tear roll down the side of my cheek. The pain keeps getting worse. The feeling in the pit of my stomach tightens more and more. I need it so badly, to be held, to have someone curl up against me. To be touched, caressed, looked at with love. I’m dying for it. I’m in the process of dying from this emptiness in my heart, from this lack of love, of contact. Touch my lips with the tips of your fingers, look at them with desire, let your hand slide down along my cheek, stop there at the nape of my neck. Love me the way I’ve never been loved, desire me the way I’ve never been desired... Love me.. I so deeply need it

[abyssofmysoul]

Another night, staring at someone’s back. Why don’t they ever face me? Am I really that insignificant? It hurts to feel alone in this bed, even though I’m not. Why do they never want to come into my arms? Am I not comfortable? What is it about me that pushes them away? Why don’t they ever want to curl up against me? Am I not enough? Or just not important? Not desirable, not attractive. I would give so much to be looked at with longing, with passion, with love. So much... just for someone to want to find shelter against me. To be the warmth that ignites the heart, makes it beat, makes it vibe.

Give me those eyes, those eyes that shine when they rest on me. Just once. Only once. So I can know what it feels like to be desired... Please

[abyssofmysoul]

"his eyes tumble down to my lips"

"the smiles in his voice"

"I could never live without him"

So many sentences I read in my books. These books that carry me away, only to throw me crashing back to the ground. Do you feel it too ? that deep sensation when you read, the one that burns inside you, that strikes you, drowns you in the lines, between the letters, the pages, the ink… and then there’s your reality?

I love the way they transport me and make me dream, yet they hurt so much when the landing comes. Me too… I want to live that. Give me that gaze lingering on my lips, give me that embrace, those smiles, those glances, that attraction, that love. Make me live and exist, because drowning in my daydreams is far too painful.

My lips press together as I turn the pages, uncovering words that are not meant for me. And tonight again… the ache deep inside me awakens.

[abyssofmysoul]

Here it comes again, that feeling in my chest, no, a little lower, in the hollow of my stomach, deep in my guts. As if they were twisting. I hate this feeling so much. I feel like it clings to me even though I keep fighting to throw it away. I already feel stupid writing the lines that follow, but I need to lay words on this black background. My body, my soul are so in need of contact, of touch, of gestures, that when I absentmindedly touch my face by sliding my arm over my head my heart tightens at that simple brush, as if it had hoped it was someone else’s hand touching it. Then my insides twist, forming noose-like knots that choke me from the inside. I would give so much in my dark moments for someone to come to me, take my face in their hands and smile, “Hey…” placing a soft kiss on my lips that would pull a shy smile from me: “A movie tonight? But let me melt in your arms.” I would nod gently at that adorable mischief... The image bleeds, melts, evaporates, fades, running across the paper of my thoughts as if my tears had smeared all the ink. So I’ll die like this... Without ever knowing that feeling? It’s so painful...

[abyssofmysoul]

(Picture unknow artist)

“You’re so handsome,” “you’re perfect,” “you’re gorgeous”...

We can be anything we want behind a screen, our fingers becoming magic wands weaving light, filters, effects, frills, all to enhance our appearance at will, until we’re no longer even a copy of ourselves.

We grow obsessions with strangers we wish we looked like, because we’re no longer enough for ourselves, because we can’t bear the gaze in the mirror anymore, because every little line, every speck turns into a flaw in our eyes, while every feature of others becomes a perfection we strive for, yet never reach.

We burn ourselves out with every failure, because our reflection remains the same, again and again. Scissors, hair in a sink, makeup, hands stained with dye... and tears for never reaching that beauty, that perfection, which in this world holds more power than anything else.

I will never be enough as long as I’m me, and I will never be someone else, condemned only to contemplate their beauty like I was a joke

[abyssofmysoul]

Is it me who’s strange?

(Drawing by Meennma)

I’ve got my nose so deep in my books that I end up living my life like a story, like a movie, something outside of time, where I, too, am waiting for that other main character, the one who will complete me. A love story that sparkles. Someone obsessed with my eyes, my lips, my hands. Someone who would watch me from afar, biting their lip. Someone who’d lie on their bed thinking about me. Someone who needs me, my touch, my gaze.

I’m one of those people who crave deep, all-consuming bonds, both in friendship and in love. That’s just how my heart works.

I don’t want half a connection.

I want an explosion of color streaked with rain, the kind of moment you live looking up at the sky together, letting the drops run down our faces, laughing out loud at the beauty of something that will stay with us forever.

Give me my timeless, beautiful story, before it’s too late for me..