Yearning and Suffering
Jewels I plucked from my heart are mere rocks that you skip across the lakes I await at, every night, under the deathly pale moonlight that dances and bounces across the ripples.
“Did the kitchen change?
What about your name?”
-David Kushner, from the song “Mr. Forgettable”
But you skip the stones, and they plunge into the dark tides never to be found, and I wish these yearnings could be chucked into the same waters I dip my feet in, each night, grieving and begging for another night of hope more, because the selfish routine of familiar ache is all I look forward to, the disappointment a comfort and solace of knowledge about a known fate of of my own misery.
In my bones I know, the body has drowned and you will not look for it, in my soul I already have the answer, but an abhorrent fool must take pride in the heart that she makes suffer vigourously, like a glib jester, it doesn't know the laughter that jingles across the halls are here to mock him, just as a cursed fate of misfortunes and pain are not a reward for efforts in vain.
The prettily stomped roses of my heart, that must suffer an agonising and desirable humiliation for you. Even the amputated limbs that scream and thrash are on a performance, as I mull over how long and hard my chords must bleed for you to lend an ear to me.
Your name, I curse it not, in its stead I call and fond upon it like a wailing mother cradling a dead infant in her laments of lullabies. Cruelly and foolhardily, I wish for the one to look for the body that he himself, drowned in these very same waters.
Ah, to be yearned for… not just wanted, but to be missed in the bones...
Btw loved the pictures!