Not one to be solved but to be lived.
It is certainly that, and something else,
something we want to touch, with the veiny
red and blue reality of skin on skin.
The word is “ineffable” but the feeling is not.
I can feel the weight of your hand
but I want the weight of your desire.
We are at heart strangers to ourselves.
The uncomfortable silence we work so hard
to obliterate takes us over in the end, or doesn’t
as it may be. One can only hope this feeling
of always waiting for the next thing isn’t eternal.
Desire comes like the pieces of a blizzard.
What more could we want
than to fill the silence with our blizzard of desires,
to make it effable,
to fill the spaces between seconds and breaths?