Don’t take me seriously
You Not talking about You. Not thinking about You. - To. not. think. about. *it*. To suffocate. Try to let new people in. Trying to / Stop / Reverse / Halt. - This closure of my spirit. Open and find new. - Find new but to know that I can’t speak - of the old. To Speak of these old feeling that feel like so much a part of me. Heartache like a heart. Sadness, like skin. The Melancholy of me. These feelings now grafted onto me. I / Remember / Relive / Retread./ - How I felt when I was with You, is a Knife. A knife I gladly plunge into my heart till all’s left is mince. Over and over again. I plunge this three parted blade ----tip like bliss --- middle like snow topped sorrow --- The hilt. The hilt is agony. When it pierces me full I am on fire and yet chilled to the bone. I am both frost and flame, renewing and consuming. I am the fuel and the fire. Renewing slower than consuming I am both. separate, same, simultaneous. I know that I now stand at the edge of two places. One where I let go and grow and find someone who makes me feel that same way but not *in* the same way. One where I remain. Fixed, focused. Singular in single sadness. A starved man. A man who food retreats before. A man never able to touch and savour, but at least to see. The comfort inside of that all he wants. I know which one I will pick. The first path is for me. Destruction of the self has never been my aim. But, I never thought I’d meet a person who would make the second seem so good. However, I never thought you would make me feel this way. You were my first love. You.
