Longing does not have cure, you cannot kill it, it has no sense, it does not take shit to home. Longing is not confronted; it has no companion, no expiration date. Longing does not have right destination, it is not powerless. Longing plays the flute in the heart remembering his presence.
Longing is dumb, a silent companion in the lurch. Longing is the feeling that undresses the soul. Longing is worthwhile in its flavor full of good intentions and the greatest of them is to revive the memories. To respect the longing is one that opens the door to the past, by stubbornness, to encage certainties and prohibit new loves.
Longing is the emotional mess that does not teach us how to mend our broken heart. It is the solitude customized by melancholy.
Missing someone is a yearning the last delicacy to be fed, to feel the taste of them inside of us. It is a continuing of a ritual, when you do not have them by your side. It is dance without music, without running with an opponent, song without tuning, playing without sheet music, seducing without partner, a cold feeling in the park bench without blanket to warm us up.
Longing is the corner of the room that was not swept, but it can be our hallmark and our exile, our loving tragedy or reeducation. Longing is the hidden fervor of whom we were. Every missing is a little ghost that feeds on our solitude. It cuts the wings of our heart not letting it fly.
Longing is all they say. ‘Saudade’ is the stumbling block that love has left… ❤
#love #poetry
Beatriz Esmer 