I have always wondered.
Is it the living, breathing human being that gets into my every pore and boils it until I'm charmed into a delirious other world. One where shivers are warm and the rain is mild and thick.
Or is it just the feeling, fleeting through my everything, a ghost of a breeze, rushing through me and igniting that sad-mild candle flame that makes me crave an embrace never to experience.
Where I live now, the rain falls heavy and hard. When the skies turn black and time kicks its teensy stone deep into the night, the people fade into the pavement and their homes. If it rains, they all hide away and the streets are wet and swimming in pale lights of lamps. Nobody walks, and the only sound is the soft drumming on everything, and the diving of leaves, down on the curve of a waft. All that, wrapped in a cloud-clad cover of night, draws a smile on your face. And as you smile, that feeling grips your heart, it closes its icy little hand on your fluttering pump, and that feeling of absolute loneliness overwhelms you.
And then, it doesn't matter if there is a face you see before you, through the curtains of rain, through the light of this world, it just doesn't matter. You will long for closeness, for warmth, and there will be none.
Ultimately, that must be the sensation of loneliness loving you. And you loving it back. Heartwrenching, yet beautiful. Calming, yet hurtful. Close to yourself, but locked away from everything.
I think I have my answer now. It's not somebody to love, it's whether to love or resent the great Loneliness.
Is it the living, breathing human being that gets into my every pore and boils it until I'm charmed into a delirious other world. One where shivers are warm and the rain is mild and thick.
Or is it just the feeling, fleeting through my everything, a ghost of a breeze, rushing through me and igniting that sad-mild candle flame that makes me crave an embrace never to experience.
Where I live now, the rain falls heavy and hard. When the skies turn black and time kicks its teensy stone deep into the night, the people fade into the pavement and their homes. If it rains, they all hide away and the streets are wet and swimming in pale lights of lamps. Nobody walks, and the only sound is the soft drumming on everything, and the diving of leaves, down on the curve of a waft. All that, wrapped in a cloud-clad cover of night, draws a smile on your face. And as you smile, that feeling grips your heart, it closes its icy little hand on your fluttering pump, and that feeling of absolute loneliness overwhelms you.
And then, it doesn't matter if there is a face you see before you, through the curtains of rain, through the light of this world, it just doesn't matter. You will long for closeness, for warmth, and there will be none.
Ultimately, that must be the sensation of loneliness loving you. And you loving it back. Heartwrenching, yet beautiful. Calming, yet hurtful. Close to yourself, but locked away from everything.
I think I have my answer now. It's not somebody to love, it's whether to love or resent the great Loneliness.
