Vulnerable.

This week shouldn't have existed.

I suppose I miss the devilish realization that there is someone out there that wants you and cannot wait patiently to have you.
And I don't mean this only intimately, but a craving for your being, your presence.   
But I know myself too well. If I had that now, I'd still feel empty.
I'd still feel hollow in the dim light, clothes strewn across the floor, his fingers twirling my hair like creamer in black coffee.
And every inch of my skin would be saturated with reticence, every nerve burning with the urge to run, run, run.
I ruin all good things.

If they were ever good in the first place. 


But enough rambling, here's a poem that has been a favorite of mine for years now.
And some hipstery pictures, of course.

Separation

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle
Everything I do is stitched with it's color
-W.S. Merwin

I think everyone can relate to that in their own way.