PURITAN

Innate desires, the Freudian id. Internal alchemy transforming them into poetry, into words. It is no longer enough that I feel it. Now, my darling, you must know it too. Distance being the puritan, burning me at the stake over and over again, but I am brought back to life by these desires that haunt me. I feel your touch in the night breeze. I sit on their breath as I’m pulled into nostalgia. Every night, it is the same looping thoughts. Oh moon’s child! Why do you cling on so tightly? Do your palms not bleed from the defiance of the ropes? Yet I am here, like an idea, waiting to be discovered. Look at me, as I see you. My soul is melted into yours, and I only find me within you.

Tolú