You haunt me through day and night.

In daylight, as I bask in the sun, I find myself comparing its very warmth to you.

All because I’ve been shown the overflowing comfort your hugs may provide, everything else pales in comparison… and I am left in a world that feels too cold for my lonely soul.

But as I chase your warmth like one may chase the sun, it crosses a border I cannot reach. Next thing I know, I am enveloped in the cold darkness of the night- Where you continue to haunt me.

At twilight, you haunt my dreams- leaving me to toss and turn in a pas de deux with my memories of you. The lingering memories of you from the day turn me into a feverish state and burn my skin, my legs, and arms- filling me with too much warmth. The wrong kind of warmth. Not the tender brush from the rays of your soul but a raging desire beyond control. It rules my sleep and leaves me dissociated when I finally wake. Waking up to find and confirm that I undoubtedly am and will always be alone.

I wish you would really see me. As I glance your way, my world becomes more saturated. A brush dipped in my abundant love for you glides over my soul- filling me with one of the few things left that make me feel human. Love. But how ironic it is that I write of love. Love is a forbidden word that cannot be released from my tongue. I do not deserve and understand it as you do, and I don’t think I ever will. You are surrounded by love, care, and people. Yet I am surrounded by disdain, bitterness and despair.

I’ve spent years ready to grow old in a deep loneliness. My fear to act on love, the way I have shut off such feelings since childhood, has turned everyone’s ideal romance into a messy monster tangled with anxiety that lurks over me. It pulls me back from people… yet mocks me when I am left abandoned and unlovable. It haunts me.

You haunt me like love. Love haunts me like you. You. Are. Love.