Poetry & Prose

I need the arms of home

wrapped around me

This ferocious longing

Could be my desire for relief

From current hardships.

But if happiness, contentment has a curse

It is that the longing doesn't stop.

No,

The devotion, hunger

Is it's own living, breathing entity.

So like a sacrament

These tears fall as tradition spreads the days

Testament of the reality

It never was.

But because it is

On another plane.

And that pain

Is a sweet balm

I'm all wrapped up in jealousy

A blanket of my own making.

Stitched with shapes of anger, tears.

Quilt squares with scenes of a life unmet.

It's warm here.

Theres a certain comfort

though the fabric scratches.

My breath recirculating.

Threatening panic

At such hot and vapid jealousy.

It would end me

If not for the tether

Of the heart.

Connected in understanding

In belonging

In uncomfortable

Unbridled

By Geoffrey Chaucer