Time

When I lay down to sleep, I feel alone.  But, I think about you neslted against me, with your head on my chest.  Our fingers intertwined.  Our legs against each other.

I think about the low vocalizations that come from quiet conversation.  The intimate words.  The raw, vulnerable fears and hopes.  The closeness.

It comforts me.  It helps me to feel a part of another person's internal machine.  To soothe it, and be meshed together with my own.

I love you.  I really do.

I'm still not sure quite what that means.  What it implies.  But it's what I feel.

The connection is there.  I believe in it.  Sometimes I feel as though I shouldn't express it.  But, I do anyway.  And it comforts me.

With all of the loneliness in my heart, I am reluctant to latch on to those things.  But I desperately want to.  It helps fulfill my being.

It takes someone special to elicit that from me.  It takes a gentle voice, a caring heart.  It takes real love.

And the fear of losing it is real.  Always.  That sickening fear is always there, somewhere.  But I still hope that it's real.  And for me.

I don't want you to be alone.  I don't want you to feel pain or sadness, even though it's impossible to make that a reality.  But I try as hard as I can.  I'll keep trying.  And every day, it feels more real and concrete, and not just my own delusional extrapolations.  I truly, sickeningly love you.  With all of the beauty we've experienced together, I have to believe there's something real there.  And with the cadence of our voices, I have to believe that it's real.

--

The romance of it all is both unbearable and serene, like my chest is swelling at the thought of being with you.  I don't really know what's acceptable or not.  I don't really know how much of this places me on a decline.

But I need that voice.  I need those emotions coming toward me.  I really need you, and I hope you need me just as profoundly.  No matter what else ever happens; when the world crumbles; when the land is a swamp and drowning me; when the sky is warm and lighting the verdant fields; when everything is loneliness; when the air is filled with happy thoughts... Whenever, however the state of the day is.  It's still there; that need.  The need to be close to you.

To hold you and feel your skin against mine, to feel like there is another person's nerves accepting my electricity.  I can calm you, and I can make you smile.  I can help you feel loved and a part of something special.  I can bring you into me, to feel warmth and sustenance. I can give you real love; real, Human love.

The world always feels like static.  Painful interference is constantly prickling at me.  I spend so much of my life figuring out ways to deal with it, and a part of that is keeping the world at a distance.  So, a lot of this scares me and makes me feel childish for being afraid at all to express something real.

Yet all the words are the same when I hear your voice.  It's all meaningless.  I just want to hear you and feel what you feel, and be a part of you, and you of me.

All the history of my pains and disappointments shouldn't matter.  I am trying to be in this moment of life, to hope that it's something I deserve and am allowed.  Something that doesn't come with a condition.

Something that doesn't end.

There are so many reasons I want your company, and your companionship, and your empathy, and your love.  All I can do, though, is want them.  I can't convince you with reasons.  I have to hope I can be a person deserving of them, and deserving enough to keep them with me.

It's all I think about lately.  It scares me, because I don't know how much more I'm going to give to you before I realize that I've given too much.  And then, It's gone.

Time is a grip ever-tightened,
its veins coarse and rough,
and sand fills my lungs in time.
I want to breathe you,
instead of atrophy's climb
crumbling into a sigh;
to rise with your hand in mine.