I crave great books,
and minds to woo and be wooed by,
with which to devour them.
I miss the feeling of trying to win affection -
it was a mighty propeller,
the search for my Soul Mate,
my World's Biggest Groupie,
my deepest addiction...
But I found him,
and the world went quiet around me.
Stillness settled upon and bled through me.
I didn't need anymore.
I didn't ache and yearn and pine and keen.
I embodied Zen calm, able to just be...
Every nerve grew languid and lazy and hazy...
All others fell away like shadows,
holograms of handsomeness,
without any magnetic pull,
just scenery,
the background of my sunburst-rainbow-tidal wave of love.
If there is such a thing as a purely positive psychotic break, I'm pretty sure I had one.
One day I was the Me I'd always been:
dreaming, drooling, flirting, seeking,
searching by leaping out into the world,
connecting and connecting and connecting, in so many ways...
The next day, I was Me but
surrounded by the quietude of having my keening,
howling cavernous emptiness filled with the sunshine of a summer day, forever...
But once in a while,
I miss how it feels to banter with someone,
almost flirting,
pleasure in each others' wit,
swapping stories and connecting again,
but in a gentle, measured way.
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