Capacity

by Christos Polydorou

On a personal level
to be honest
frank
and sincere

(I went dancing on the docks and fell through the boards into the sea)

the reason I write
is because
of the feeling
of feeling
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something
which I am
always
on the verge

of attempting
to name or capture
but it is a fish
it is wet

(washing through me)

and my
hands
are
on fire.

(If I love you, will you love me back?)

It is like being filled
emotionally,
at capacity,
but so that it spills

out, so my volume
of infinite sadness
and spiritual loneliness
is temporarily emptied,

(I can only stop acting like a child, if I connect with my inner child.)

almost entirely.
And then it refills,
like the tides,
because we are bound.

(I don’t want you to just love me, I want you to tell me, everyday.)

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