To Feel

Unanswered

Unrequited.

An unrequited conscience, frolicking at the gates of my undoing.

Brewing. Stirring. Sticking.

The pasty skin, pasting onto the starvation of my flesh;

For I wanted to glue myself unto you.

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Saddled.

The severed spirit

was the greatest repercussion;

the thought of being wrenched away

from our reverie,

and to be led in diverging directions.

See, I wanted your ghost,

saddled in my palm.

The essence.

The child.

The baring soul.

Naked, all for me.

Yet, there you turned your cheek.

Fell out of attention.

Pined for others' offerings,

because mine was not greater -

because I, could not give what they gave.

I was less fashioned.

An antiquated past,

To a future you have since entrusted,

Into the palms of waiting others.

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A/N: For more poetry, you can follow me on instragram: @poetryandmedicine

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