Here I go Again

In matters of the heart I have never been able to settle on anything short of real.

Sometimes I get distracted, but nothing but true intimacy long appeals.

I need something that goes beyond.

Beyond the trappings of social norms and roles, dramas, wounds, or masks.

I guess I’m addition or quantum physics, depending on who you ask.

See, I want it all.

But, to me, that doesn’t mean words, or trinkets, singular experiences, popularity, or charm.

My endless struggle is that only in the right environment do I fully disarm.

To me, love is so simple. But it’s profound.

It starts in the middle and then it seeps out.

And yes, I have tried. I’ve tried to blend in with the colors of the room.

But I can’t force myself into any shape without it becoming a tomb.

I can only feel at home in a place where the foundations are real and they’re stout.

Held together with conscientiousness and intent, but built from the inside out.

I care about connection. I care about vibes, and presence, partnership, and harmony.

I care about sharing simple joys, like the wind and the stars, or the sun in the leaves.

I don’t need someone to take me anywhere, just someone who can meet me in the eternal right here.

But who else even knows what that means, much less lives anywhere near?

I’m not looking for a hero, just someone who can open up with me. Someone who can feel.

But who out there has the courage to look at things that aren’t shiny and bright? The things that are real.

I’m not searching for perfect, because I too am still learning.

I’m searching for someone who can dive deep, someone who can grow with me.

Somehow I keep landing in places where it seems I’m too fast or I’m too slow. And then hope leads me astray.

And I’m pulled off down some side road in a city of glitter and paint.

Where are the peacemakers, the healers and thinkers, the true?

Why is it that the more I heal and grow the less that real friends come through?

And so I wander on, alone in this place full of masks and dramas and toys and games.

Step by step, I’m losing faith that lightning will ever strike the same spot again.

©️ 2024 Cristen Writes