My soul longs to attach to others,
to be held and enveloped in spiritual and emotional connection.
Why is it that I never feel a true connection?
It happens for a moment only,
sometimes long moments,
sometimes only an instant.
But my fractured soul slides and morphs,
dismantling the connection and sliding back into darkness.
Why am I so useless,
worthless, shattered and fractured?
A broken piece of garbage that never worked in the first place.
Loneliness devours me,
an aching familiar warmth that swallows me whole
with hands reaching up around my neck in a silent choke-hold
that doesn’t suffocate me, but holds me in place as I tilt my head back and succumb to the heartache.
Tears roll down my neck and the hands gently squeeze my throat to remind me
why I am alone.
A puzzle piece missing from a picture that doesn’t exist.
I can only force a connection with something that seems right, like it will hold.
But my distorted soul fractures again; it morphs and shifts and the connection slips
and I fall
back into the dark hands of perpetual loneliness,
back into the familiar choke-hold of my own mind and soul.
Imperfect is an understatement.
I stand at the edge of a bridge, wanting to to fall, but hoping
that someone will be there at the last second to catch my arm.
Selfish, aimless, lost and afraid.
I reach out my hand and I find emptiness.