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I have found that I am always hungry. I do not mean this in the sense that my belly is empty, though that is an emptiness I may choose. I mean that my heart seems always in need of being, and is never, filled. It has a hunger for gentle words, for caring, being cared for. It needs to feel and take from this world, to then create and chose ways to return what was taken. It is not mine alone for I have given it away, parceled it out amongst the people and things I hold dear, and will continue to do so for as long as I live. My heart is not my own, and I believe it has never been so. It aches when it is apart from me, it aches when I try to keep it too near. It is in a constant state of unrest, it will not be content, its balance is never kept long from being upset. It speaks vaguely of what it must do, what it must have, and my head is left to interpret what it hears but cannot feel. For it is my head that becomes all too cold and calculating when it cannot understand these soft but urgent sounds. I bounce about trying to fill one needy whisper with another, never stopping long enough to see what kind of mix of these wants might let me be content. My head leads with sound logic it thinks, but thinking is only an inexact science at best when it comes to getting what my heart needs. My head, if asked, might suggest taking my heart out back and giving it a stern speaking to. But my heart has never been one for following anything other than its own spastic beat.














joymabou on Feb 4, 2010, 12:16 pm
how are you doing today my name is,joy hope you are fine. i am a kind careing,and responsible girl. i am writing you this with a reason to find a kind and honest friend.please contact me joymabou14@yahoo.com thanks
Nicholas Seron on Jan 20, 2010, 12:37 am
Personally, I've given up on trying to interpret my heart, and do not attempt to satisfy it. It is eternally anxious, and forever wanting, not unlike yours except that it is not even attempted to be fulfilled. 'Tis only teased with the possibilities of what could be by examples of others' in the world around it, and the occasional chance it never knew until t'was gone.
Pete Hood on Jan 19, 2010, 7:23 am
We've all been here...and usually the heart wins. Or as someone (I think Theodore Sturgeon the SF writer) put it: We love not where we choose, but where the lightning strikes. Good prose-poem.
juniperlillie on Jan 18, 2010, 2:26 pm
Contentment is over-rated, kinda like death. ;) I love the expression of this very relatable situation ;)
Bejn Jonathon Xander on Jan 18, 2010, 1:12 pm
This is well written. I can relate to what you are saying.