Touch.

It's as if this time i'm the one that got left behind.
In scenarios like these: I know the pure spectrum of evolution.
A new leaf- if you will.

But i'm stunned, beyond unreasonable doubt on how to conduct my years.
I know longer know what satisfies me.
I know longer want what I once wanted.
No longer do I feel fulfilled with caresses or passionate nights filled with bottomless escapes.
Your words don't matter, our history no longer holds residence.
The spark has died. I no longer hold you on my grand pedestal.
I've told myself that this time I've dropped the story line.

I've thrown out ancient philosophy, forgotten the smell of spices and riches.
How do I en devour on something stunning?
A whole new world of possibility with new fortunes and passions?
How do I go about creating beauty out of ruins?

In scenarios like these, I tend to sing myself to sleep.
Followed by mumbling insanity that feels as if I'm suffocating in the nothing.
& I hold my pain TIGHTLY: like my entire life depends on it.

When you appear, Dear little girl of mine
Once again, for your regular routine of roulette,
Well.. I have more yearnings to offer up.