Soft lips
Speak truths so small
In the moment I slip
You drift away
Away from it all

I can feel myself fade away in a cycle.
Thin skin never did suit me well.
Each day broken up into tiny manageable parts.
Built to be a curated filter my personality must fall through.

This is not repair, but maintenance.
An entropic form that must dilute to remain safe.
I am a capillary of my years, resentful of oxygen.
No pulse can sift through me now.
I'm alone in this vena of an apartment.

Certainly there is no breaking of barriers here.
A refusal to spill blood for the wait makes this almost
pleasant.

Sometimes I miss you even when
you’re right here.
A nice breeze will carry leaves across
the pavement and I’ll want to grab
your hand but
you’re off somewhere else,
up there.
So instead I’ll just look around
at what we could be enjoying,
and instead of feeling full I’ll feel sad.

breathing deep expands the cage
but the heart knows no rest
only some sort of acknowledgement
a distant thought of sorts
that the heart be enslaved.