Space

In the quiet of the darkness, I feel the distance between us like a weight pressing down on my chest. I find myself tracing the contours of distance, a vast expanse that seems to widen despite my longing for closeness. 

Is it you drifting or me fading into the backdrop of uncertainty? 

Your absence echoes in the empty spaces of our shared moments, and the silence between us grows louder than any words we could exchange. I yearn for the closeness, for the warmth and the sound of your voice filling the void within me.

As I lie awake, consumed by thoughts I can't help but feel the ache of longing in every fibre of my being. The inner beast within me stirs restlessly, craving the connection that seems to be lost to the passage of time and distance. They were like sleeping beasts, their presence felt but their roar muted, waiting for the catalyst to awaken them from their rest. Then, you came into my life like a gentle breeze on a still night, a whisper that stirred the depths of my soul. Your presence kindling flames where there were once only embers, igniting a fervour that courses through my veins as if you've unlocked a hidden chamber within me, revealing desires and longings I knew existed but have not felt for so long.

Yet, memories flicker like distant stars in the night sky, beautiful yet unreachable, leaving me to navigate the darkness alone. I long to feel your presence, to share even in the mundane moments yet I find myself adrift in a sea of uncertainty, unsure of where we stand or if we stand at all. It feels fragile, like a thread stretched thin, threatening to snap at any moment. And yet, amidst the longing, there are moments of clarity, moments when I can still see you clearly. In those moments, I am reminded of the beauty that lies within you, and feel the intensity of how much I want you and how much I wish you were here.

But then, just as quickly as it comes, the moment fades, leaving me alone once more, grappling with the emptiness that fills the space between us. 

And so I wait, counting time hoping against hope that someday soon, you will be here, and we will be connected. 

And I hate it

There are moments, moments like this, like today, where there's a black cloud filling the day.  The sky outside may be clear and blue, the sun maybe shining, but here inside my head, over me, surrounding me is a big black cloud of fucking horrible funk.

And I hate it.

And I can't shake it.

I know it's a whole host of reasons, the arrival of Mothers Day which brings a whole host of feelings to me.  Throw in two nights of terrible insomnia, and the wonderful feelings of spending a matter of hours with someone followed by the drop and reality that it won't be for a while.   

And it all brings about a cacophony of emotions and feelings that feel like a stormy sea bashing at the sea defences. My defences.  I feel storm battered.

And I hate it.

And I want to turn the clock back to how I felt in the early hours of Thursday morning, the moment where I had an arm draped across my chest, a head sleeping on my shoulder, the weight of which weighed heavily but just brought about a sense of closeness in the darkness of the night that even when sleep eluded me I was filled with such a sweet and wonderful feeling.  And that seems so far away from where I am right now.

And I hate it.

I didn't sleep well last night. 

Neither did I the night before.  Instead the past two nights have been filled with a whole host of difficult feelings, painful reflections, I've had memories flood back in of the moment that people have literally drifted out of life, my witnessing their taking their last breath.  Haunted by the recollection of the time I almost drowned, I led there feeling just as I did at that moment, the way it felt as the water slowly filled my lungs as I saw life, my own life slowly ebb away.  I've had recollections of times in my life where it's been filled with such a sense of deep loss.

I feel haunted by the sense of loss, emptiness and sadness.  I feel like I'm drowning under a big black cloud.

And I hate it. 

And I'm trying to find the rays of light coming through the cloud and yet I am filled with a sense of foreboding, a sense of fear, as if something is going to go tearing through life and rip something else away from my heart. 

Right now, my heart feels vulnerable.  *I* feel vulnerable and quite alone. (A very rare thing for me to feel!)

And I hate it. 

Not the feeling of my own vulnerability, so much as that of my heart.  There is a beauty and a strength and a power in being vulnerable, of opening yourself up to someone and being vulnerable with them, to them, to the feelings you have.  But this heaviness, this darkness, this sense of emptiness that is enshrouding right now is quite overwhelming. 

And I hate it.

And my goodness, I'd give anything right now to transport me back to those early hours of Thursday morning, for that sense of warmth and closeness and just "being" in that moment. The closeness of skin, the closeness of feeling and watching him sleep, watching him breath, but just feeling. That moment.

But, the reality? Is that I'm as far away from that moment as I possibly could be.

Instead, I'm drifting into the darkness of a storm, the depths of funk that have come out of nowhere.  I feel as if I'm in a "drop", I feel disconnected in a way I don't want to be disconnected and yet, I can't disconnect from these horrible feelings.

And I fucking hate it!

To write . . .

I don't want you to share a part of your soul with the world. 

I simply want you to share a part of your soul, bit by bit, little by little. . . with me!

With words, whether written or spoken. 

I don't want them to be pretty words whether scribed or verbalised, I want them to be words that share you, share your thoughts, and emotions, that share your hopes, your sadness, your pain and your fears. 

In the words of Maya Angelou, "...the idea is to write it so that people hear it and it slides through the brain and goes straight to the heart" . . . *that* is where I want your words to go, the things that you share, the words that you may speak or write.

I simply want you to share you, a part of your soul.

All of your soul.  All of you.

With me.

But more so, for you to know that your words, whatever and however you may share, will always be safe, treasured and cherished.

This is life

The water, gently moving,

evolving dreams from those who look in it,

creating hope, renewing faith.

I see a new me emerging, with all new perspectives,

a sudden energy for life,

a longing to never change again...

But beneath the crystal water there lies a problem.

Will I escape?

The current now getting stronger,

I sway back and forth, trying to stay on top.

The movements become faster,

I'm drowning in my own feelings.

In an attempt to escape, I realise that

THIS IS LIFE.

And the water gently moves again...

Writing. . . my friend.

It has been so long, since my words have flowed. 

I feel as if I have been reunited with an old friend, you know the friend that you may lose touch with, an amount of time may pass and yet, when you're reunited it is as if you've never been apart. 

It's familiar, comfortable.

It brings a sense of relief. A sense of calm, a sense of release as words flow once more. 

Writing my old friend, how I've missed you.

The feeling as words flow from heart to written word.  Words from thought to paper.  From sentences to poetry. 

Words that have stopped the mind from drowning under endless ebbs and flows and waves of thoughts.  Writing that has eased the hurts, shared the wants, the needs and desires.  Writing that has shared pain, heartache, loss and grief. 

I have missed you, writing, my old friend. 

Let us connect, let us come together once more and share the journey of words, of thoughts, of emotions, of feelings.

Welcome back writing . . .my friend.