Have you ever had that feeling?
The feeling of almost.
A pseudo success, like licking the whip cream frosting before eating the sponge cake with raspberry filling.
Just a taste, surface, cover of that inner most private longing: fruition.
The harder you try the further away it gets and the minute you seek comfort in indifference’s arms, it's back.
In the corner of your eye, just outside your peripheral forever taunting, haunting, laughing, loving to watch you writhe, squirm in heat with hysteria, senseless, witless frustration.
You spin with force, swipe, open your hands and it’s gone - again. Did you catch it? Thought you had it? For a second? Felt it even? Felt it brush across your palm before it completely eluded you?
You're silly, you’re funny, you’re crazy, because you’d rather settle for that feeling than soldier on, than try again.
And that’s okay, because what you don’t know that I do is, you’ll only seize it