Rochelle’s Blog

I need the punctuation of your persona to pierce my soul.
I’m lost in this flattened world.
The Christopher Columbus discovery of inhabitants already existing in this vast space underscores the sensational over the substantial.
The brevity of images defines the senses.

I am burdened by the binary sight and sound of you.
I’m enslaved by the thought of you.
The liability of your absence disrupts our connection.
The sum total of 1 plus 0 are not adding up 2 you.

I need to experience your truth, to inform me what I believe about you.
I’m filling the gaps of the unknown with figures of what is not fortified in my reality.
This confusion conjures beliefs once confirmed by warm and cold sensations.
You are a collection of curiosities.
Your casual hearts strings me along.
Your customs are not customary to me.

I lay my face on the screen to get as close as possible to your words.
Your texture is intoxicating unfamiliar.
I’m bathed in your light.
Your brilliance quickly dims because I haven’t touched you.

I long for your touch, taste, sound, smell & sight.
My eyes hold conversations you have never seen.
But in return I get syllables of silent sentences.
Your words are missing notes and are toneless.
The skeleton spaces between your characters are not fleshed out.
This longing for you is betrayal of my senses.

I sleep with you next to me, but I am restless and unsatisfied.
I need your sacred substance of significance stuffing me with the familiar.
I crave for the vibration of your organism.
I dwell in anticipation.
You respond.
I consume your fleshless character.
We light up the darkness with our back and forth intercourse.

Our characters
collide &
climax
2
completion.

Read my other poems.
A Different Kind of Love
Morning’s Prelude

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Until the next time – I adore you for reading my blog,