Thank you, Bukowski

I am trying to fall in love again. But I keep looping back to a dark place in the middle of embraces and kisses and sex. A Leonard Cohen's song plays in infinite loop in those moments - when behind closed eyes, in the arms of another man, all I can think of is M - his eyes, his hair, his warm kisses on the back of my neck, his beating heart. It all feels palpable and immediate, although it has been 9 months. It feels like yesterday. It feels like today. It feels like now.

(The Leonard Cohen Song: 
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you
But now it's come to distances and both of us must try
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.)

Between now and then, my life has turned upside down. Mom died. A pandemic happened. I got a chronic disease. I know, what matters most is how well we walk through the fire. Thank you, Bukowski. I am walking fine.

Sometimes, though, I wake up thirsty in the night, wanting. Wanting nothing in particular, just wanting. Maybe just wanting to want again. A body's Hail Mary attempt to believe that it's alive still.