You spend time, years, months and days
pining for it, hoping for it. Hopelessly.
When you last thought you had it in hand,
and it slipped away, tearing out a hole in you
as it fled into the clear, crisp light of day. Away.
You dreamed about it on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays
and on every day sandwiching them. Night.
When you think about how your chest split open
when it last kicked you in your heart,
and how you swore never again
you spend time, months, years, days, weeks
and hours now,
pining for it.
Yearning for that sweet caress,
that lingering intense look,
the one that makes your heart rock,
and causes the spot where your chest split open before
to throb gently. Warmly.
You hunger for that feeling of
being somebody’s human,
Because with this hope and yearning,
despite the previous heart aches and pains,
you still believe in it.
In rainbows when your love laughs,
in blazing brilliance when your love smiles at you,
and, that bliss, when they hold your hand,
or drape their arms around you,
erases the scratch marks and scars from the hell fire
you walked through to get here.
And on a clear, crisp day,
you tell them you love them.
They say it back.
And they mean it.
And they stay.