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Ptsd poetry anyone?

This is a close as I get to expressing any kind of desire for intimacy at this stage. It's probably crap, but here goes:


Touch

Can we meet in a singularity?
Fingertip to fingertip
The lightest of touch of skin cells?

That is enough for me
After all, the universe was created from a single point
Can it be our universe?

I would want that
 
Was listening to Dan Carlin’s “Hardcore History” podcast about when Julius Caesar annihilated the Celts. And I overlayed that onto my quest to re-learn about love, after experiencing phony versions for all those years. And wrote this poem.

Love is
Like a barbarian war general
Pushing the body and mind
To heed its command.

Like an urgent prophet
Warning of impending chaos
If action is not taken.

Like a crying woman
Urging her spouse to fight harder
Because victory is imminent.

When is love patient, kind,
Not proud or envious,
Nor fiery, fierce, and self-seeking?

Patience is patient, kindness kind.
Love may be dodging my arrow
And reveal its true self in time.
 
Here’s a poem that I heard the other day and have been sharing it with my friends. It’s sort of PTSD-ish because it’s about coping with doom.
 
The art of slowly dying

You do not fight to keep alive
You die
You ease into decay
Autumn leaves, the soil
The natural decay of life
It's gonna be a long winter
But at least I can see my blurry reflection
In the ice covering my soul
Spring will come, I will rise
Some day I will fly
Like a butterfly
I will cocoon and shelter up for winter
Protect me from harm
Some day
Some day
I will fly
Yes, you will!
 
The art of slowly dying
My friend D said that the central teaching of Buddhism is “preparing to die”. That every day you are supposed to meditate on this. Not to grieve—maybe? But also to not take any breath for granted. To not add to the great amount of suffering already so present and pervasive, if you can help it.
 
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