The pull in our chests

will stop.

The ache in our hearts

will calm.

The echoes in our minds

will quiet.

The liquid in our eyes

will dry.

The weight of our thoughts

will lighten.

The doubt in our hopes

will vanish.

The fear in our souls

will disappear.

The distance between us

will be lost.

Why? How?

Because one day we'll find each other and the spell of loneliness will be gone.

One day.

I’ll take deep breaths

close my eyes

and feel the space around me.

I’m trying to train myself

into believing

no one likes to be around me.

I let my mind wander,

skimming memories,

accepting the past within me.

I let my mind experiment

with morbid estimates

predicting the future for me.

I see no physical presence

of those who claim to care

disbelieving anyone loving me.

I get a lump in my throat

hold my breath

and cry in the space around me.

There’s no one.

There’s no one.

There’s no one around me.

There’s someone

sometimes

but they don’t care for me.

Eventually, I’ll see

the emptiness surrounding

is, in the long run, better for me.

Peace.

Serenity.

That is what I need around me. 

Distance. Abandon.

It feels exactly the same.

Anger. Resentment.

This haunting is a shame.

Anxious. Paranoid.

Who the hell can I trust?

Suffering. Pain.

I'll walk alone if I must.

Hatred. Love.

They have the same flavor.

Death. Numb.

Suffocating would be a favor.

Vengeance. Justice.

Fires keeping me alive.

Jaded. Aching.

Redemption leads to strife.

Disconnect. Reconnect.

Enduring the push and pull.

Distance. Abandon.

I cycle again. I am a fool.

Haunting me in daydreams and teasing me during sleepless nights, you know the power of your hands even at a distance. Simultaneously, I get my vengeance by taunting you with my own tactics. Darling, we're masochists and we can't get the taste of our skins out of our mouths. We hope our flavor will last forever so the memory of us can be triggered repeatedly. We're traumatized and we know we love every moment of this torture. The only part that hurts is the distance. As long as we're physically apart, we'll never merge our souls or tangle our heartstrings. We need it. We need touch.

Reading our conversations

over and over

shouldn't be this fun.

Smiling at your words

over and over

shouldn't give me so much hope.

Planning future dates

over and over

shouldn't be so mesmerizing.

Thinking of the possibilities

over and over

shouldn't be so nice.

Over and over

and over again.

It shouldn't blow up in my face...

but it might.

I prepare myself

over and over

for the disappointment.

I'm pulled by multiple forces;

they yank me from a stable conscious,

escort me into daydreams

of my foolish, foolish subconscious.

Imagining the warmth of one's hand,

words exchanged with authenticity,

sweetness desired and delivered,

and enduring life as if it were fleeting.

Repeatedly I pull from the daydreams

and repeatedly I smack myself

because I don't want to fall too deeply;

Lord, I just can't keep torturing myself.

My eyes glaze as I stare into nothing, then a searing sensation in my chest sparks a vision.

I see the last person that bruised my ego or hurt a loved one. My first offense is declaring truth with piercing words decorated in thorns. They counterattack with a petty retort and instead of crumbling as I expect to with my self-esteem, a version of me, a version that sees red, smirks and accepts the challenge.

She closes in with more verbal attacks. She gets giddy when the opponent's temper rises. Physical assaults occur once her taunts are successful. She, who is me seeing red, blocks the assault and twists the fight with her incredible strength.

The more she twists, the greater the satisfaction. Her heart beats harder, her grin grows wider, she twists and twists and twists until the opponent screams. When our opposer notices the way we see red and tries to retreat in terror, we don't let them go; we refuse to offer mercy.

We finish them off.

Then, smile at all who watched us seize the life we felt entitled to destroy. Our smile asks, "Who's next?"

When the vision stops, she whispers to me, "That is how I want to earn dignity."

I agree and disagree.