My Puppeteer

 

It’s been so long since the last time I wrote for you, but whenever I try to remember how desperation feels, I think of you. It feels like eons since I decided to disassociate  from your web and even longer since I saw your eyes sparkling right back at me.

Let me tell you, my gravitator, it gets easier when I look at Venus while ignoring the golden planet I orbit around. I even deny your existence in my core, where your home is; did you find a better home or are homeless? Are you lost?

Ahh… I break down and try to cry but tears won’t come out. I’m dried up… I wither, my sun. Without your light, I crumple, my leaves turn yellow, then brown and soon I decay.

Where are you? You don’t visit my mind at night anymore; are you waiting for me in one of those dreams I don’t see anymore? In that dream, where you hold my hand and walk me to the barley field in the early April? Or in the other one, where you sit beside me on a dune, with your knee touching my thigh and whisper in my ear that you like observing the sea but not getting in? Or maybe in that foggy forest where we just stood on golden brown leaves as the wind spun around us? Are you in my favorite? The one with you initiating a kiss, softening my lips with your tongue and become one with me as the snow piles up outside? Where are you?

I still hope for a text, for a sign, for a freaking pigeon. I wait. For you. You know… when you physically get closer, even if I can’t see you, I feel you. I know you’re close, I don’t know how… I just do, and you know it too.

Oh, my love, that first night on the dock, when you locked eyes with me, you attached strings on my heart. I dance to your tune, in your wordless command. You have all of me, forever, my puppeteer.

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