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caught between the life you want to live
and the life you're already living

everything collapsing
your dreams dissolve
on the smallest of smallest of ponds
while the ocean you were meant to swim  
lies just over your fear

hiding behind someone else's shadow
because he was here first
because he is not afraid

yet your mind runs deep
your ideas just take longer to collect
that's all it is

for our greatest fear is not that we are

inadequate
but that we are
beyond
for to be great is to be different
and to be different is to be
alone
I often feel as if there is a dark glimmering
buckle of barbed wire whirling round my gut.
It tightens with time, clawing, shrinking into me.

If I were to remain here, will agony prevail?
Roped up from the subtle notes inbetween
                                 -the simplicity I crave.

And even yet, or sometimes never, will my core crumle if I take it off.

I float on the heaviness of such decisions. Burying the scarring with fabric, the occasional smile, single scratchy laughs.

A hell-belt, or a hug?

*******, or protected?
I wish I knew what you thought about at  night,  alone in your bed when the lights are off.
When  the  lights are  off  and I am  alone  in my bed  at  night I  think about  breathing.
I  think about  breathing like I  think about  writing, and when I  think about  writing
I  think  about my  mom. There was a  dip in the  road near my  childhood  home,
and  every time we  drove  over it  she  would go just a  little  too  fast.  Every
time we would  jolt  quickly up and down in our  big grey van. And  every
time the  pit  of my  stomach  would get  lost  somewhere  in  the  road
behind us. It was  always  hard  to  breathe. When the lights are off
and    I  am  alone  in  my bed at  night  I think  about   breathing.
I  close    my   eyes   and    feel   my    chest   rise    and     fall.
I    want    a   rose   and   I  miss   the   fall.  It   was    cool
in      the    fall     and     crisp    and      clear.   I     wonder
what   the  weather  was   like  during  the  Fall  of   the
Roman    Empire?   If   it   was   warmer   or   colder
than    its  Rise?   Why   am  I  so   scared  to   rise?
It  is  easier  to  fall.   Fall   in   love   every   day.
Fall     into     bed.     Fall    asleep.    Fall    into
your      arms.     When     I     fall      in      my
dreams    I    don’t     always    wake    up.  I
don’t   think     that     is    normal.   When
I    fall    in   my   dreams   I   am   given
a     chance      to      reconcile     them.
When   I     fell   in   love   with   you
I  was  not   allowed  this   closure.
But  the  joy  existed  in the   fall,
and    maybe   also  in  the  fact
that  you  wouldn’t  fall. Fall
with  me now. We will rise
together.  But  not  until
the summer sun burns
our eyesand melts
our     bodies.
Unti  l then
let   us
fall.

— The End —