The power to what?

You are the one I want most of all, and the only one I barely touch. The one I want to hear pressed against my ear. You barely haunt rooms in silence which I sit. I want more than I have, and no way to get at it.

I don’t want to wait to live again. I wasted lifetimes down that narrow alleyway, thinking the things I needed would magically occur to me. I’ve done enough hoping, wishing, dreaming. Dreams now glance off me. Mystery is above and beyond me.

But. If I stay true to who and what I am, then I will only find someone fitting to that personality. And if I fake myself, then I’ll get the old situations all over again. Failure upon failure to be retold. And no chance, ever, to be truly bold.

I need to remember the ruins of the past. To recall the struggles I’ve manoeuvred through. Ten years of another life I can’t go back to relive. Ashes that can’t be reformed into a living, breathing anything.

Despite religious persistence, life that can’t be sparked from nothing.

I need to pass through this drab cloudy weather. Find the lightning and the thunder. To be ready and willing to be struck straight in the chest. I already believe for some reason you are made of the fire I crave. And I know. To touch it, I have to bump into you.

I want to, but is timing everything? And consent is a complicated thing too. So, in light of both… when is right for you?

Do I hold my breath and hope you want me too? Do I play majika-shi and look for subtle clues from you? Do I make the first move?

I have to hope. Cling to this invisible string. Because if its another blind failure, and another burned in scar, and another “you were wrong” — I end up with nothing. And then? Consider the tracks of one of countless trains your only friend. There won’t even be time to watch life flash before my eyes. I’ll close them tight and slip weightless into the speeding light. And crash, not into you, but the night.

Let’s not lie.

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