
I am sore,
from all this violence of affection,
my expectations, so tender,
so oft refused and rejected,
from the commitment insecure,
the thoughts insufficient,
the wanting more,
and doing nothing about it.
So I swore,
off that myth of selfish longing,
to drink no more of that
pure hollywood concoction,
a poison sweet but toxic,
to starve this hungry heart
until its greed was defeated,
beating rhythms metallic,
wanting no more,
and thinking nothing about it.
But I am betrayed,
by my dreams and delusions,
for each evening,
they speak of nothing but love,
love, love
and doing something about it,
They tell of
mystic meetings remembered,
of long nights lounging
in the eye of the sunflower,
of the warmth of house
and home,
and the coldness without it.
And so today,
that starving heart's hunger
has been awakened,
perhaps drunk and delusional,
it wants more of it.
Today,
my heart will give in to this song,
like an addict.
Today,
I will sing of love,
love, love
and wanting more of it.
Today,
I will cast my heart out and wish for more,
as I cannot live without it.
And I will hope
that you will hear the melodic wanting
this hungry heart transmits.

-Soha Turfler