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I Yearn

A Poem Inspired by a Dear Friend of Mine

Image Courtesy of Your Good Life Now

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, or what sort of chemical reactions are occurring inside of me to unearth such yearnful feelings as I sit in my doctor’s chair. You know, that little rotating circular chair with three legs. I didn’t say anything to my doctor though, as I was scheduled for a physical checkup. I’m pretty sure a physician wouldn’t know what to do about this longing I feel inside.

It must be...

I think to myself nonetheless, as I get ready to leave after my appointment. When I get up from the chair, it spins around for what seems like an eternity, just like those thoughts that spin around in my mind.

Sometime later, while driving, I take a look outside my car window and into the distance. I simply don’t know where I am, or what is happening. All sorts of figures are passing me by, though that same sound from the transmission lines follows me everywhere. All the while, I seem so small and distant. I’m tiny and meaningless amidst my surroundings.

I see myself, during a time when I’d ride my tricycle while waiting for my ball bearings to arrive in the mail so that I could fix my favorite bike. I don’t even ride that bike anymore. I don’t know why I even bought that bike in the first place. I don’t know what made that event so significant then if it means nothing now. Or rather, the bike in and of itself is unimportant...

Because the fact that I’m thinking of it in association with my yearning can only mean...

And I don’t know what sort of game the universe is playing to leave me so impotent and unprepared for this event, that which I am unable to explain, that for which I can’t even recall its cause. And I don’t know what’s wrong with me, when I stand before you like a statue, and when I feel the softness of your touch as you stroke my face.

It must be...

It is because of your touch that I fall into profundity. It is the look in your eyes that lure me into the depths of their shimmering pools. It is the look of your lips that urges me to kiss them, and the feeling of your embrace that makes me want to hold your hands in mine forever.

And it is unclear to me how I’m able to love you, if even a little, just the way you are. No, I am sure that I love you. It’s because I’m unable to refrain from thinking of you. It’s when my first and last thoughts of each and every day are of you, and when every pleasant scent my mind creates awakens you. And when my doctor’s chair, the one with three legs, reminds me of you.

And when the car rides, my bike, the transmission lines, and even the birds that perch on them remind me of you.

And when glue, notepads, books, and even the endless sky remind me of you.

You are the one who gives purpose to all matter known to man. It is as if you are woven, carved, and crafted from everything I come into contact with. It is as if you are every single path I will ever take.

It is as if you are mine. I wonder if you realize that yet.

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I Yearn
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