When you moved from the mouth of the cave which was a hole in my heart, you revealed a mirror hidden inside. I crawled inside to look deeper at the reflection and became imprisoned; captured by an unwillingness to accept the reflection – that the Ghost isn’t you, that the Ghost is me.
I am not looking for you when I look always and everywhere short hair flips; I am looking for how I felt searching for you. I am not writing you poems of love when I write love poems to you; I am writing myself for permission to feel that way again.
The freedom to feel the intensity of a kiss, of comfort in a lover's eyes, of appreciation beyond pious thankfulness, the joy in being desired.
To dream, and imagine it a possible reality.
I hope I can see you one day; I have been staring at a reflection of myself very long.
-The Madman Laughs at Everything
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