Again
Thank you, I think, for reminding me of the spectrum,
for bringing my awareness back to all that is not happiness.
I should be grateful that your words ignited in me the passion
of fury, the familiar burning desire for that which lies
just beyond my futile grasp. I welcome sadness again
for its richness, for its complexity — joy is but a narrow frame.
Lest we forget, there is sick sweet agony in pain,
terror in loneliness, gaping voids after an argument.
Mornings are quiet again in the absence of your voice
and my flesh aches for your touch, for any touch.
But that yearning is what drives me, that omnipresent
need for an undefinable something that pushes blood
through these veins. So truly, thank you —
love would have been too easy.
for bringing my awareness back to all that is not happiness.
I should be grateful that your words ignited in me the passion
of fury, the familiar burning desire for that which lies
just beyond my futile grasp. I welcome sadness again
for its richness, for its complexity — joy is but a narrow frame.
Lest we forget, there is sick sweet agony in pain,
terror in loneliness, gaping voids after an argument.
Mornings are quiet again in the absence of your voice
and my flesh aches for your touch, for any touch.
But that yearning is what drives me, that omnipresent
need for an undefinable something that pushes blood
through these veins. So truly, thank you —
love would have been too easy.