Longing amidst linden aroma

 No matter what I do or what I tell myself, I long for you.

I've been so damn irresponsible, negligent and careless, I couldn't speak or act or come forth with any sort of truth. Such a great length of time I've spent torn between the anxiety of commitment and this damn longing.

What kept me back was a stupid sense of  overbearing childish immaturity. So many dreams and "could've been" mixed with regret. Washing me over, wave after wave, and me instead of surfing the surface and coming on top with what I truly felt, I let it drown me into nothing. 

Yet time never fails to roll over any ocean. Waters consume and dissipate. In the wake, my mind left with only one course: leave. Shut up and leave. At least stop causing any more suffering around you. Live with the misery that only a semi-awake mind can impose over itself. Live and let die and let live and die. 

Yet the smell of linden and the sun-kiss of early summer, time after time, takes me into her arms and takes me back to the sea. You gently caress the waves and their ebb and flow reward you. This image again tears a hole right through my resolve, the arms of summer turn into stormy clouds and I fall, far away, into a maelstrom of longing.

And here it is I need to dwell, for if there's any cosmic justice, where else? A rift between your serenity and my forever "could've".

You cannot twist the waters to your whim, without them twisting you right back. Heaven is a place on earth, right next to Hel.

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