It Doesn't Matter The Distance Apart, Or How Long Since We Have Interacted...... I Always Want You.

I need this every night.....

Need

Moon...

I need to bask in the energy of my moonlight for as long as I can tonight.

Moon....

Edward Eggleston (1837-1902) - Reaching for the Moon

I need to breathe you into my lungs... no matter the emotion shared.

I'd rather inhale the fires of pain and tough love, than to never know your flame.

Moon....

The deep painful introspective looks in the mirror at myself, have the same weight as someone's judgmental take on me, as they pass by with their first impressions as they judge either how I look, or how they chose to see me.

Either way it's as soothing to my soul as standing in one spot, barefoot on hot blacktop as the sun beats down upon it.

Maybe I never get to put away the knife, or better yet forget where I laid it. I'd settle for wiping it off on my sleeve and putting it in its sheath.

The untrusting darkness in me, combined with the auras that decide to pass by instead create the need to clench it so hard in my hand my knuckles turn white.

Fractured thoughts converge, tinting my field of vision around me.

It's not fear, but weariness.

I rather would choose the darkness or at least the shadows than to be laid bare in the unforgiving sun.

To bathe in the moonlight is to heal, to weather my skin to handle the torment of my waiting demons.

I see the silence in their touch, I hear the cold embrace against my skin.

At least their companionship is steady, the cuts, bruises, the crimson trail of thoughts they plant is expected.

I don't embrace them, but I've learned to depend on them for at least a normalicy in my life.

Without my anxiety, my demons that remind me in my sleep not to ware dream of a fairy tale life, I'd be tempted to trust those around me.

Instead I live looking for patterns... What do they want?what do they seek from me? What can I do for them?

Once they take a look at my face, or my intense soul the majority show themselves as weak, selective, callus in how they change, turn, ignore, block, or disappear.

Trust....

What the fuck is that anyway?

Unconditional acceptance... Yeah ok.. Now that's a beautiful fantasy.

I would rather be labeled too intense, or untrusting, I would rather always hold my knife and count on one hand those that may actually give a fuck about me, then to live like the lemmings that think popularity in numbers is love, or that kind words aren't laced with dark intentions.

Fragmented I strain to hold myself together.

I try to reach and parts of me fall to the floor. No matter how I try to hold it in, the only way to keep myself together is to hold myself tight.

It hurts to reach, to watch the vulnerable pieces of yourself, the ones you've picked up, dusted off, cut your fingers to hold, slip away, fall to the dark for another.

I reach for your glow.

Not worthy.

Not entitled.

Not out of despair.

I reach because I must, because the first time seeing you was all it took, to invade my head, to spin my thoughts, kicking up parts of me long since dormant.

I reach out of sheer need.

I don't care what happens to me.

She can give and I'll be so blessed. She can choose not to shine upon me and I'll stand, waiting for you.

I know I'm not the best. I know I'm not the kindest. I know I'm not much of anything in this life, but for long as I breathe, keeping my beating heart going in this temporary husk I'm in...... I'll be all I can be for her.

Even in doubt, even when I feel like I'm farther away. Even scared..... I will not give up reaching... I will reach until my arms start to spasm, until my body aches from wait, long since weary...... I will reach.

My moon would look so sexy, bound and ready wearing these....