I couldn’t taste it like I used to
It didn’t shine, wasn’t hot, left me hollow
Sticking to the roof of my mouth, burning the back of my throat
Holding out for a new sense, crisp edges
Grasping for the vision, the epiphany
The flush of new ideas, the breath of change
Waiting.
How long I have been pacing, holding onto a vision I can’t quite grasp. This old ache walks with me, hoping for an ease that has proven to be fleeting, just out of reach. Swinging back and forth between longing and loss, belonging and shame.
