Starving for full

I realized tonight that I am terribly afraid. In an effort not to internalize hurt or personalize pain, I’ve pushed the experience, the hopefulness, away from me as if I were full. Afraid to consider any of the good possibilities because they make me so incredibly happy and what if I only taste them in daydreams? Nothing else ever as pleasing to the tongue, I would have ruined my appetite for life if I allow the sensation of it with never the reality to sustain. If I let myself remember how good…I only want it that much more. I would consume it completely, it would be my last meal. The final pass over my lips igniting all of my senses at once. I feel alive during the consumption and I savor each bite dreading the moment when only the last bite remains. And I would leave it there on my fork…or I would want to, to show restraint. But my boundaries lack as a consumer of this particular meal. I never know when to stop.

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