Saudade
When the sun goes down,
The streets turn lonely;
The coffees and milkshakes are replaced
With cigarettes and whiskey;
When the pretense, the makeup,
The small talk, the fake laughs,
They aren’t the front-runners in your head anymore;
In that precise moment, tell me,
What is it that you long for?
When the lights are off,
And the darkness steers through your eyes,
Into your head,
Engulfing all the dreams of glory, ambition, power;
And the last cigarette burns,
Like a tiny funeral between your fingers;
I want to know, in that particular moment,
What is it that you long for?
And no, I am not talking about love!
Or the dreams of resting your head
In those arms so forgiving,
The hope, the affection, the security; not at all.
No, this goes deeper,
And even just for a second, if you can dive in,
Tell me, what is it that you long for?
It’s not simple,
It’s not easy.
Many have failed to look beyond it,
Many are afraid to even try;
It’s unsettling, unnerving, anxious, intimidating,
But once you’ve felt that moment,
You become obsessed with it;
Obsessed with what you truly long for,
And the ways to end that agony,
The one true life purpose.
Everything else sort of takes a backseat.
It’s risky, yes, this obsession,
And I would understand
If you would rather live under the sun.
But the nights are mysterious,
With their darkness, howls, and stillness,
And if you ever wanna come this way,
If you ever wanna dive in,
Just keep asking yourself,
What is it that you long for?
“What is it that I long for?”
The kind of writing that shows up uninvited, barefoot, at 3 a.m.
