Out of love

I picked up a Poetry book a few days ago. I’ve not read many words. It is a poetry book about people in love- and I guess I’m not. You just don’t fall out of love with someone because they’re too far away. But I suppose, eventually, it’s too hard for your heart to take. I dislike that phrase “fall out of love.” Falling sounds too instantaneous. we say fall in love, but that’s quite different, isn’t it? You fall into holes, swimming pools. Deep things. Things difficult to get back out of. You fall out of bed. You don’t fall out of love. You get dragged, kicking and screaming, over rough terrain. But you don’t just “fall” out of love.

A winter night

And I have had this weird feeling for a few years now, the only way I know to describe it is like a phantom limb. Where you lose an arm or leg but still feel as though it is there. It may itch or hurt but when you try to relieve it,,, nothing. I feel a connection to someone by an invisible rope, always there, watching, tugging and when I try to reel it in there is nothing. It’s a strange feeling to wonder whose there. To get goosebumps in a warm bed, to have a single hair pulled with such tension and there is never an explanation.
I’ve always asked questions. I enjoy learning new things. I want to be the best I can be when I do things. I don’t enjoy ignorance. It is being so confused that it is like a calmness that entails my entire being. I am desperately missing someone I’ve never met. How can I explain that. To look into the passing eyes of strangers and know one day someone somewhere will complete me. Fill the void. To be someone’s purpose. That sounds really great. To find the one that understands me, doesn’t have to say anything and I am afraid of that understanding. To cross desire with fear of finding a soul like myself. Only you can break through these walls with only a look. I’m glad it’s snowing tonight, for it is a chance for me to be touched. By anything. For a lonely person it is desired.