“whatever our souls are made of, hers and mine are the same”

my muscles ache

and my soul cries out for you

it needs you close

this body of mine yearns to rest in your embrace

but it is my spirit

that constantly calls out your name

( that has not changed - it called for you

even when it did not know

how you feel

just inches away )

my being always cried for you,

and rebelled against the injustice caused by the lack of your presence

but now it is even LOUDER

singing about you after days spent in the turquoise depths

of the water

that soothed us both.

and after joining in our little sanctuary

by the ocean and sand,

it cannot stand the distance it has away from

your fingertips,

from your skin,

your touch

oh how it HOWLS at the most random moments

I am unwell

disconnected in the world I live in

breathing too shallow, too mundane to suffice

when the only time I can breathe deeply is by your side

this soul is lost even after given the map to its home

its pieces are not in place

I am a dislocated shoulder

constantly throbbing for you

I am unwell

without the warmth of my February sun

a winter's warmth glow

that carries heat throughout the year

I feel how you ache for me

and it's a pain that hits me double

as it is a pain that is also my own

it is the same

this ache filters through every layer of my skin

it vibrates in my muscles

it is a constant cacophony of sounds rushing through my bloodstream,

I do not speak all of this often

actually it is quite rare

but what you say with words

I say with my stare

I sing in the silence in-between that I know you sense

and hear it in a way

I am unwell

I function,

I attend life,

I attend people

the air in lungs is without any damage, that is true

and yet, in the end, I seem to be covered with tiny holes

a stained colored-glass letting in light

but not holding in warmth for too long