I’m not sure what it is.
Maybe you’re my obsession.
That part of my inner drive and determination that still reveals itself.
I’m not chasing you anymore. But still it is there – the running.
Maybe not running – maybe just searching. Or longing. Or reaching.
I don’t know. I don’t understand it.
Maybe I never will.
Maybe I keep the distance so that I can run and reach and search.
But the longing is what kills.
One day at a time, my friend said. Then she said, “One minute.”
Yes one minute at a time.
I long. I reach. I search.