I don't need to be desired,
nor do I seek admiring eyes;
I walk with purpose, with dignity,
as if every step is a promise
to something good – an endorsement
for a life well-preserved.
But this path is a cruel circle;
There are no forks to ponder
or bridges to cross.
I’d never been nearer to a dream
yet felt so far from feeling elation.
The only constant in my gut
is the pool of angst standing silent,
steady, stagnant, and stubborn.
It's still too dark in here.
I carry a hollow heart,
an insatiable longing.
And like an empty cave,
my core echoes, my body raw
with need for warmth –
broad shoulders and gentle arms –.
I was loved, once; but
he stifled me out of my own life.
Perhaps that was not love.
© 2013 Helena Malheur