Aorta

What we feel is real,

What we imagine is fate.

Tell me oh wise one?

What does it take?

To feel love,

To embrace pain,

To get up when you fall,

Rinse and repeat.

We all are guided by nature,

Yearn for nurturing hands and arms.

Your love, your touch,

Irreplaceable, longing to quench my appetite.

When we fall,

We hope,

We dream to be caught.

Tell me oh wise one,

Tell me a story worth living.

One where my equal will follow me in the dark,

Accept our fate and runaway.

These minuscule moments of touch,

Have monumental implications.

With every contact,

An adrenaline rush is felt like no other.

An organic drug,

I want to last infinitely.

Tell me oh wise one,

For I’m afraid of what’s to come,

I want to leap,

Yet I’m afraid to fall.

Fall and never get back up.

Fall and watch as my equal,

Points, laughs and make fun.

Tell me oh wise one,

Will this emptiness concede.

Or shall I be trapped in a vessel,

As these impetuous emotions

Control me.

Tell me oh wise,

Please tell me my fate?

Hoping these moments,

Hoping this romance,

Hoping this love,

Hoping this lust,

Hoping… steadily hoping,

That when it’s all said and done,

The bad pieces are left behind,

As you and I eternally coincide.

-Neseknows

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Leyla says:

    Wonderful poem

    Liked by 1 person

    1. neseknows says:

      Thank you, it truly means a lot!

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.