but this, this is a new animal.
this is a different kind of
bittersweet. this is
new.
before, my yearnings had been
obscured, vague,
yearnings to get away
instead of yearnings toward,
to name that which ill-suited me,
and to grasp, indelicately, at
what I imagined my desires to be.
now, as the tide turns, comes in,
I throw myself towards the things
I want, knowing now what they are,
because they've taken reality's form.
And they haunt me, those things I want,
because though I see them, though I lap
at them, drink them in through
words and voice and starbursts of the heart,
I know I cannot have, I cannot truly
know.
I will be beckoned, once again,
towards the weary, worldly sea, I'll ebb out
and away, pulled by the moon, dragging
myself slowly, gently releasing my
grasp of each grain of sand, leaving salted
kisses where they lay.
At least, at very least, I'll have tasted.
