How can you reconfigure the synaptic of your psyche when youíre stuck on replay; reliving every trauma, every heartbreak, every head on collision with things you cannot unsee and unfeel.
Until, we cannabalise ourselves and everything else that ever touched us. Trapped in overthinking, as thought patterns flicker like a slideshow when youíre not busy.
Busy, with work. Busy, with life whilst driving blindly, asleep at the wheel. I missed the boat, and caught a train to nowhere, and thatís where I found you.
Drifting, in no mans land trying to unfuck yourself from everything that ever meant something to you whilst pillaging your psyche, and I sat next to you just to hold your hand.
It was a beautiful thing.
Your gorgeous heart and the love that flowed from it is a beautiful thing to behold. To grasp the purity of your precious heart, and hold it forevermore.
A gift for those who ever held your gaze long enough to cherish you.
Just to sit with you and witness the way you played with images, reimagining the continuity of all things gains & lost, like the dead flowers that withered by the roadside.
A memorial of some sort but you held on.
However, it was time to move on from your self inflicted sufferance, on to better things that didnít entail traumatising yourself whilst warring with your heart & mind over precious little things.
Things, that clung to you that you thought you never needed.
Precious little things that adored you as you held them deep within your heart, without turning towards passing illuminations, and there is reverence found in such for the groundwork in which you created was hallow.
It enabled us to blossom and flourish, never losing your gaze.
Your gifts & deeds were not lost on me, and neither was the self sacrifice but itís time to grow, beyond the framework you constructed.
Beyond, the pain you endured to kiss the souls that worshipped the ground in which you walked upon, and I loved you for nothing speaks of love like the self sacrificial kind.
Made whole, from the healing & love that came back to you two - fold. The purity of your heart is a beautiful thing; a rare thing.
A kiss can trigger so much as your lips taste the one thing your heart had been craving, for aeons.
The aroma upon ones breath as your hand trails the protruding bones of my nape seeking a pulse, to grip me by the throat as your kiss crushes me, and your other hand pulls me closer until my waist is pressed firmly against yours.
Fuck. I miss you.
I miss the feeling of you against me but youíre over there, paralysed. Unaware, that weíre both paralysed as a result of your circumstances, and Iím waiting to breathe life into you whilst contemplating the unknown with you.
You are loved, more than you will ever know. You will always be a King, so unappreciated but loved more than words can ever express, and I wish I had a cure for the unknown, and the melancholy that comes with that.
Iím not ready to say goodbye, Iíll never be ready.
Your love, was never lost on me, my love.