Tis all stuck in a moment
And this moment refuses to be seized
It calls to I
To my deepest reaches
And never leaves my side
Throughout the day, and its sun
I can hear it only vaguely then, if attention is allotted, hardly won
Then easily dismissed, and forgotten
Drowned out by the busy noise
And outshone by our star’s rays
But pierces my ears through the night, and its moon
And keeps me thrashing, tossing, awake
With its unbearably silent and scratchy scream
Whose throat that has conceived it:
Sore, raw, swollen
Red as the blood beneath.
With the perpetuating demand to be heard, but never granted, nor loved, nor held
And my only wish is to seize this
Trapped eternally in a sweet moment
But what is this, rubbish?
Without the hope of this moment?
And the nostalgia of its passing?
Alas, it cannot exist without the longing, the ache, and all of its untouchable perfection
For when I had it, I was not allowed to know
It was only when I yearned for it did I love, and cherish it so
Must I be tenderly cursed to feel
With all my sensitivity and love that I no longer can, but must contain,