I find I am lost.
In a liminality of longing.
In your lack of presence;
in your distance.

Where actually are you?
How can I give to absence?

For me, in freefall,
this is one of those nights:
dry, dense, dark,
where reason doesn’t count.

Today, I believe in paradox:
I cling to the insanity that
You are there.

That there are arms.

I am not falling
but being born.

This is a personal blog website and I have no interest in tracking visitors.
Cookies are used to make the site work.
Requests to third-party servers are anonymised so no user-identifying information is shared.