pull.

i felt the pull;
slowly but building quickly
until all at once.

40 vs 60;
i want to fall
into it.

clawing back out
is such a different
path.

maybe i’m
leaving
her alone.

offering space
and affection
from afar.

the doubts remain;
my skepticism is
genetic and permanent.

do i push more
or wait?
i wait.

i’ll always wait;
equivalent pain,
yet less public vulnerability.

i don’t see
sense in
my brain;

offering doomsday predictions
yet still fostering
the smallest hope.

today i’m a
stone cold wall
of sarcasm
and solidarity.

tomorrow i’m a
hopeless heart
seeking connection
and love.

this life peels
strips off my
heart daily.

soon the pull
on my lungs
will be too much;

heart emaciated,
ribs brittle and sparse;
soft, fleshy lungs.
awaiting sentencing.

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