…of yearning

Desire stretches its wings, casting invisible strings
across the hollow chambers of my already aching heart
where the mere thought of you, creates vibrations
awakens my imagination
softly beckoning me to the faint whispers of memories
that I have long discarded
possession eludes form, ethereal and drifting
slipping in and out of reach
my soul searches for you in the vast ocean of stars
and the restless tide that ebbs and flows
the echoes of us now lingering in limbo
where those taught strings weave their dark creations
their songs of pleasure and pain
…carrying me into the depths
of my devastation…
circling like a summer storm
reflections of you, trembling in the corners of memories
a dark portrait of desire, its’ paint still bleeding
pooling at the edges where shadows beckon
without thinking
…I reach
for you…
my fingers trembling like leaves in winter
like a newly hatched bird
like all of the lost and the abandoned
my heart bereft and broken
hopelessly seeking something
…something undefined
something not lost…
but scattered, like broken glass
images of us reflected in the dark
forever out of reach
…yet even now I still search
not for desire itself…
but for the inexplicable pleasure
and the inevitable pain
of reaching for the essence of desire
lies in the moments between breaths
the anticipation and the surrender
the endless ache that feeds the soul
desire calls, light as a feather
but its’ song is always heavy with the weight of emptiness
and the echoes of yearning can never be denied
the horizon is always beckoning
its’ soft edges shimmering
painted with promises that it knows it will never keep
© Ann Bagnall