It is the abashment of not having
the comfort of others’ presence
that glorifies a passive glance,
at times more comforting than
spatial abundance of Nothingness.
Daydreams of a warm laughter,
a soft collision. Bodies
transcending gently, navigating
in a sea of claustrophobic intimacy.
We long for more and more,
greedy, needy, human, real.
A necessity to abandon loneliness,
an obligation to bleed.
It is not tenderness we seek,
it is a fight for survival.
Contingencies – they determine everything.
Tender, friable, soft, desperate.
Fight for love, except
it is not love; it is desire.
Boredom, lassitude, masochism,
a primitive yearning to feel.