not all beacons are made of light
warmth
is budding
from the
inside,
soft and
comforting.
it whispers
in my ear,
sweet nothings.
they fill the
cold,
hollow,
pit,
within my heart.
such brief words,
that seem to mean so
little,
in reality,
mean more than
the world will ever know.
a simple glance
between two strangers,
sparking a conversation,
creates a bond
stronger than time itself.
how can warmth
bring immense joy,
and unbearable
sorrow?
while i cherish the connection
foraged through this impulsive,
yet passionate,
decision,
i mourn that fact
it only happened
because of it.
i grieve the fact
we find community
in outrage,
and pain.
rather than
peace,
and serenity.
motivation
and
fatigue
battle
in my heart.
i can feel it
expanding,
like a balloon
about to pop
from the pressure.
i love asexual sex
and non-sexual aces,
but who loves us?
