Longing feels like….

Longing;
is a sharp knife having its way
 -W.E.

It cuts, it carves,
It twists, it halves,
It severs, it starves
At our pain,
It laughs.
This sick accompaniment,
rotting your carcass,
the doing,
of longing,
the strive of us imagining,
back to an earlier time,
to the beginning,
where once was poetry,
once was singing,
where once was joy,
where there was living.
And now…..?
Nothing,
decaying,
dying.
Please let me be,
an inkling,
With my thoughts,
Something,
With my memories,
Leave me my longing.
-W.E.