I do not die every night
waiting for you,
most days I get along
fine without you.
But some days I do die
painful, horrible,
loneliness clawing inside,
tearing the edges of my solitude.
With a fierce determination
I think about finding you,
on a site, on a blog,
wondering if I could spare
time to spend learning you.
I have other things I wish to do,
things that fill the emptiness
with far less complication.
Yet still the shredding
of my unloved heart
awakens inside.
Yearning, pining,
for who you might be.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017