the Purgatory of a Broken Heart

Fall into the abysmal depths

Round and round we spin.

So yes.
If we spiral
We do it beautifully
On purpose
And we land on our feet.

This is not collapse.
It is a controlled rotation.

Touch that is transportive, that takes you elsewhere.

Tender, full, generous, enveloping. Infusing spirit into deadened appendages. The feeling they lacked seemed abstract, but now, alive.

Insatiable. Like rain soaked soil pretending it did not need water.