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Thursday, August 1, 2013

In-to-me

I want in-to-me (intimacy) SO bad.

The desire for it awakes me each day. And each night it puts me to sleep.

It's the very thing that fosters my dreams and yet breaks my sleep.

I want it so bad I can feel it.
Except there's no sense of fulfillment, satisfaction, purpose.
Warmth. Connection.
Because it's now only a figment of my imagination.
A source of emptiness.
A silent killer.
A vicious one, reminding me of this void I have.
This dis-connect.
This dis-content.

That no one's in-to-me enough to pursue intimacy with me.

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