spindle

i think of him
every moment i shouldn't
find myself longing to tangle my hands
in his dark hair
til it curls around me like vines
crawling over my body
til i'm cocooned
like sleeping beauty
in her castle of brambles

london lives, pt.1. mind the gap

there is something innately british about the careful, polite distance people keep from each other.
every morning, i cram myself into a crowded train bound for central london, surrounded by people pretending to be immersed in their papers. each rider seems petrified of raising their persistent gazes for even a second. the slightest nudge when the trains departs elicits a mumbled apology directed at the floor. i'm constantly swimming in a reticent sea of sorrys.
standing in such close proximity requires keeping a heedful radius from each individual's personal space, but people seem to behave as if no-one else exists. it's perplexing...
my englishness is manifested in my constant, quiet politeness... and it's magnified now i'm back.
even the americans i've met (all foreigners, really) adopt a calculated stance of true britishness. they keep people at arms' length and converse in the lilting speech patterns that are so alien to their cultures, sounding colonial even through their far more exotic accents. their voices move up and down in a steady, predictable rhythm, like the sounds of my morning train on the tracks. conversations are peppered liberally with respectful apologies where none are needed. it just all comes across as being so impersonal to me.
this is the first time i've been really alone in almost ten years. departed from everyone i love, i find myself becoming more and more detached. the space between us widens and i'm left oddly calmed by this lack of intimacy.
the gap is becoming less of a menace and more of a comfort.

shift

i find myself longing for different things now. for years, i had experienced the deep ache of wanderlust. all i could think of was getting away. while, even now, i always seem to be planning my next trip, that deep ache has transformed into a dull throb that is completely unfulfilled by my nomadlife.
what i long for now... is people. interaction. a challenge, an intimacy.
i find myself speaking less and less, commiting long passages to emails and instant messages instead of getting drunk on conversation in person.
i love this city, i love the fact that i get to come back. i love that i get to fool myself into thinking that every quarter is a fresh start for me.
but why am i not making more of it? what do i find myself so confined to my cold basement flat, unable to meet people, to interact, to speak even?