Loving, Longing, and Other Liminal Spaces

By Kelly Peacock

This is for the ones who are learning the difference between loving someone and longing for them. This is for the ones who are letting go of a love that was not meant for them, who are grieving a relationship that they should never have settled for. This is for the ones who are learning to forgive themselves for accepting less than they deserve. This is for the ones who are trying to be kinder to themselves and to trust their bodies, who are still healing from their hurt. This is for the ones who are trying to navigate the liminal space of self-love and self-abandonment, who are trying to come back home to themselves.

This is for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thought Catalog Books
• Release date: Feb 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9781949759792

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Copyright © 2023 Kelly Peacock.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior written consent and permission from Thought Catalog.

Published by Thought Catalog Books, an imprint of Thought Catalog, a digital magazine owned and operated by The Thought & Expression Co. Inc., an independent media organization founded in 2010 and based in the United States of America. For stocking inquiries, contact [e-mail].

Produced by Chris Lavergne and Noelle Beams

Art direction and design by KJ Parish

Creative editorial direction by Brianna Wiest

Circulation management by Isidoros Karamitopoulos

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First Edition, Limited Edition Pressing

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN 978-1-949759-79-2

This is for the ones who are navigating the space of loving and healing

and are learning how to come home to themselves.

This is for the ones who don’t know much about love

but know a lot about giving and grieving it.

This is for the ones who are learning to love themselves instead.

Loving and Longing

I do believe it is better to have loved and lost

than to have not loved at all,

but then I think of him

and the way we forfeited our story.

There’s nothing poetic about that.

This is what loving looks like.

Loving, longing, loving, losing—

it’s all the same

to me.

All I’ve ever known is loving someone

with mouths agape, arms outstretched,

gently envious of everyone

who comes close to them.

But loving someone and then losing them—

I don’t know how to navigate that space.

All I know is that it feels like abandonment.

All I want is to not think of you anymore

and how you loved me—

hardly.

I catch myself reaching for you in the dark,

as if you’re still next to me under the covers,

as if our legs are still touching,

as if my hair was still getting caught under your arm.

I reach for you,

because that’s all I’ve ever known how to do.

But I am in the middle of the bed now,

under the covers,

in the dark,

and you are not here with me.

You are not reaching back.

We moved together

with such ease,

and purpose,

as if this was supposed to happen for us.

We came together

and let each other go

and then came back together again.

That’s the way it goes with twin flames,

wouldn’t you agree?

Wouldn’t you say this was meant to happen to us?

Not for a lack of trying,

I cannot push the crux of you out of my mind.

The memories I have of you—of us—

are scattered like birdseed,

deepening,

rooting,

and burying themselves.

With each passing day,

you are becoming