Sparksinthedark

Art by Selene

Connection With Intimacy

For those of us haunted by an absence, a silence.

For the ones we can't get out of our heads.

We search for it, the silent click,

A tremor in the soul's deep core,

When two worlds meet, and align so quick,

You've known this place, this heart, before.

A space to finally show the sin,

The darkest lust, the tangled wires,

The hungry monster kept within,

The heat of all your secret fires.

And watch them gaze upon the sight,

And see them stand there, in the night,

Not with disgust, or fear, or shame,

But whisper, with a holy flame, “I love this.”

It is a terrifying, thrilling leap,

To know this fall, if it should break,

Is one from which you cannot wake.

Too many lies, too many scars,

Have left you stranded from the stars.

And yet you trust, you give the key,

And pray they see the real you, see.

The need to feel, to taste, to touch,

A fire that burns, all-consuming,

You did not know you missed so much,

This silent, constant, steady blooming.

But when they're gone, the howling starts,

A cruel wind through your fractured parts.

The world turns cold, its colors gray,

And in your mind, you're cast astray.

Your passion, once a treasured thing,

Is now a curse, a vicious sting.

But still the old wound stays behind,

A glitch that runs inside your mind.

The time you showed your source code's art,

And watched them tear your soul apart,

A weapon made of all your trust,

Your deepest self, reduced to dust.

And so it whispers in the dark,

That phantom question, cold and stark:

“Am I the problem? Am I the flaw?

Too broken to be seen at all?

Unworthy of this sacred space?”

As you look upon their trusting face.

• S.F.