My love, when will I meet you? When will I find you? Where might we discover each other that I can go there sooner?
I’ve been through years without you, and even just the days feel long. I’ve met other people who’ve left heartbreak in their wake. But I’m done with heartbreak. I have no energy left for the ones who don’t care.
I beseech you, yet I don’t know you. I plead, but who am I to plead to the empty air? Who are you that I could even ask for you?
My imagination is a wild one, and maybe you’re not even out there, but I am ready for you. I have waited and I have fought for all the wrong ones, but I need you to come soon, now.
I don’t want to be buried in things that will never love me, sprinkled by each lover in the dirt of unworthiness. I don’t wish to be trampled any longer, but valued and assured and secure. I deserve that, don’t I? Do I?
I’ve given my heart to people who do not value it and have not treasured it, so I reach out to you, oh non-existent one; I reach out to you so you may take it and treasure it as no one ever has.
But do you exist that my words could reach your ears? Will I only imagine you for the rest of my days? Are you invisible and intangible that I will never meet or embrace you?
Come. Come soon.
Come soon that my heart will not have to fall apart any longer; that it will not break any further. And if you do not exist then give me the mercy of someone who will. Have grace for me, I wish I were not here, either.
You are lucky, oh lover, that you do not exist, for the pain of this world is cruel.
You are lucky that you’ve never had to wake up on even one heartbroken day.
You are lucky that you have faced no one and done nothing and never needed anything. You are lucky that you live (less realistically and more in my head) in the sweet ignorance of the sky; in the blissfulness of non-creation.
God had mercy on you when he spared you of life, but now he’s cursed me that he never made you. Am I selfish for wishing he did? Are you selfish for not being here and choosing sweet nothingness and unknowingness? And what role does God play, then? He is neither selfish nor selfless here. So is it just cruelty, then, that he would create me and leave me here without you?
Cruelty, indeed. Cruelty and curse and punishment and pain. Punishment for what? All my wrongdoings; all the ways I’d never deserve you and all the things I need lessons for and all the work I’ve never put in to healing. Curse for why? Because I am human and cursable and deserving of such. Cruelty for what reason? To play with the puppets of earth, for the humor of the beings of sky. Pain. It is all pain.
You missed it by slim chance, my dear, rest in peace. I suppose if I love you, truly and faithfully and unconditionally as I wish I could, then I would want utmost happiness and wellbeing for you; and there it is, you have it. You are among the lucky ones. Rest in peace.
Oh Lord of the angels, God of man, King of kings and creator of earth, ruler of all, why be so cruel? Why make one half and not the other? Why create one just to watch them suffer? Does suffering bring you glory? Is your selfishness what is righteous? Are we dogs and worms that you’d not care for the emotions which you gave us?
Why create love and not let it be had? Why let such a beautiful thing only be a taunt and a torture, a false hope and foolish dream? Why use such a thing to doom mankind when you have all you need! What do you gain by taking from worms? How does it prosper you to take from mankind? You created all things, create your own! And yet you have.
Your playing with me has been most upsetting. Why would you make me and leave me here without a partner and without love and then shove it in my face and tell me to suck it up? As if life should be done alone? As if this path is even walkable by only one set of feet? What is this mockery? What is this trap?!
Oh heaven, have mercy, my lover is non-existent and invisible and I am alone.
Oh beautiful lover, take me with you. Take me with you to your rest of sweet negligence of the living. Oh beautiful lover, how I wish I could have you.
If you can, come soon, come soon. Alas, another of my petals fall. I try to find you in another, I try to search among mankind, but none were made for me. None are imaginary you. I break, for you do not exist. Hopelessly and helplessly, I am alone.
Popp!nTalk 