There are storied within that should never be spoken again,
Stories that have burned my skin and charred my heart.
Stories that many know but few understand.
How long has it been since I saw your face last,
Felt your lips upon mine?
Yours is something I cannot remember,
Nor desire to.
And yet there is another who I still feel but,
With every fiber of my being,
I wish I could not.
I dreamt of you last night.
To cut out the memory would be impossible,
But I ache for it to be erased.
When will you let me go?
The more u hunger,
The more I want to starve,
For how can I breathe under this suffocation?
Yet I can still bare more,
As you all well know.
Has there ever been a limit?
There is more to be known to this soul,
More that is wished for,
Longed for.
Where is the pleasant mixture of passion, desire, and freedom?
Is it truly that rare to find the North Star?
Or the slightest breath of air in the Doldrums?
Does it even matter?
No, it must not.
For whether it does or doesn't,
That is not a matter of the heart.
The heart has already chosen to find what it is not yet ready for.
It is searching without my permission and causing destruction that is only too familiar.
The only thing left to do is to wait.
Wait until my heart beats its final beat.
Then I will finally be in peace.