i hope my words are strange and wondrous,

like kisses that quiet all things superfluous,

so that we can all stop and

listen

i am now at that age,

where i have hit the period

in which i am searching for purpose to attach the rest of my existence to.

and my options are wide open,

calling out my name,

multiple roads that snake off into the distance.

from where i stand, some of them converge, some of them diverge,

but i don't know which path to begin from,

my feet,

they don't know their way yet.

i guess my thoughts are interlaced with many other things these days,

walking home from school on a windy thursday night,

a man and woman, engaged in light-hearted chatter,

fingers entwined, in front of me.

i tried then, to recall

the last time, a boy wrapped his fingers around mine

for keeps.

trying to recall the last time,

i had a real hug.

in which, the physical body of the other individual,

expressed in its overwhelming, sheltering way,

the internal well-wishes and love of that other heart.

and it radiates, from the strength of the embrace,

that settling sense of comfort,

an intentional breaking into the lonely sphere.

then

i am disappointed.

realizing my vulnerability in this matter

is the same as before.

and i wish so much that i could care less,

that the hole was less gaping,

and that i'd spend less time looking at it and wondering how to fill it up again.

but i catch myself all the time,

and i have to shake myself silly,

and reprimand my foolish heart.

thinking,

oh dear.

why?

why?

why?