voices, circling

so you're here again.
you seem to be here all the time these days,
hovering just out of sight
with your perfect presence,
drawing me out of whatever present moment
i find myself in.
you're here and i wish i could dive into you,
soak into your skin, submerge myself
in your thoughts, your movements,
your words, your pauses, your world.
i wish you'd fall into me,
that i could you suck you in,
drown us both
in a flood of wonder.
-
i don't want any of this,
get out of my head.
i wish i could just exist on my own,
without the nose-dive, arms out, tail high, full flight
into someone else's life.
-
but in the old parts of me that you cover up,
there's a roaring, thunderous gush
of free-floating nothingness,
a deafening, crushing no place in the world to hold onto,
where all my feelings count for shit,
all my ideas cease to exist,
where i'm left alone and small,
curled into a terrified ball,
lest my insides spill outside
and slip through gaps in the air,
and there's no knowing what someone
might do with them there.
-
i want to sink into that loud silence,
to float
on the nothingness,
find myself
new
in every moment,
never holding on,
made only through each act, each word, each touch,
made of endless space and possibility.
and you can't give that to me.
i don't want to need you and your love.
i don't want to dive, to drown,
and then have to explode out later,
when it's suddenly too much to bear.
-
but you're here again.
you seem to be here all the time these days.