It’s like making love to a new lover for the first time, with the tears from the previous still falling behind my eyes.
It’s like the edge of a dangerous precipice. Like one breath and I’m free falling into the abyss.
It’s like photophobia. Like blindness with fully functioning eyes. It’s a seeing pain. It’s an illogical logical truth. It’s hidden and it’s seen. It is visible, yet not visible.
It’s like a cruel fairytale without a happy ending. It’s like I make sense, but the world does not sense me.
It’s like a primal ache in my abdomen and groin. And I ache not knowing if ever I will feel relief. And I ache to feel relief. I ache.
It’s like being forsaken by God’s Holy Fire of Forgiveness. It’s an ambivalent attitude toward our Divininity. Because I can not reach you.
You wear your bubble with pride.
I do not know if you consciously know, so I will tell you so you do consciously know.
You are on my threshold. Right on it, like a master of ceremonies. This is not a metaphor.