The Aching

Maybe the magic is in the aching.
In the longing. The reaching.

Gravestones on lips that were almost words.
Letting someone go that you never gave a chance.

Hesitation. Holding your breath.
Waiting for a moment with butterflies in your stomach.

That moment before.
That sweet, sweet anticipation that tastes like honey.

What would life be like without that arresting moment in time?
Would what we want really be all that great?

Imagine Christmas with no Christmas eve.
Packages with no wrappings or bows to guess what’s inside.

Imagine a kiss without the milliseconds before when you’re leaning in
And the sparks are flying and the hearts racing and you forget to breathe.

All of that.

Those excruciating long hours of wondering and waiting and working,
Are robbed from us; stripped away in this culture in which we swipe right.

The things we want, wait for, wish for would not be nearly as good without the wait,
But they also wouldn’t be as painful to lose, I bet.