You gotta get down into it.
Let it envelope you,
enclose you,
encompass your space.

Grind with it,
lie with it.
Let it become your horizon,
let bottom become your new normal.

Do this so you can stand.
So you can pull yourself up,
pull yourself out.

It may cling to you.
It may cover you.
All your spaces, pores and places,
but let gravity do the rest, you keep rising babe.

It will pull round you, round your corners and points.
It will be pulled down and off, off and away.

Then and only then can you be rid of it,
of this space that has so defined you.
Only then can you be clean,
while still being so ******* *****.

Winter winds charm the ancient oak trees
whipping through branches,
reverberating down spines.
Their secrets freed
stretching out in the aching creaks.

Flurries of icy daggers
(beautiful devils)
whip across my face.
Ripping by my eyelids, they tempt tears to come out and play.
I’ve been here before but
the frigid tears streamed down my face for another reason.

How clumsily we display our emotions,
guising one in the veil of another.
We cry to say I am happy, sad, unable to go on.
We laugh because we are free,
or because at times we feel so bound it is all we can do.

I say nothing,
do nothing because I miss you too much,
but play it as though I never really cared.

I look out the sides of my eyes now.
Blur my own vision so I can see you.
Going sideways, the fervent typist with an americano

                        becomes you.

You are back in my space, though fleetingly.
For when I turn my head, to take all of you in  
the illusion of you abruptly fades into caffeinated reality.
Your presence no longer imposing, comforting, there.

                         You will always be on my periphery.

Oh! To blow you over with a sigh...

Like a fickle wind able to make leaves whisper and stir, or
unleash a rage so powerful
even the most mighty trees
bend and break to its will.

To be able to knock you down with the breath from my lips.
A feller I shall be.

It won't be like jellybeans
those exuberant pebbles of sweetness
perfect and bright; breadcrumbs leading into
the forest of birthdays, anniversaries, and
what are you doing at threes
it won't be like that

nor those doldrums
those basins of comfort. inescape.
with edges so steep
always pulling you back, for it is just so
known

not those summer days by the river
languishing
the humid heat encompassing you
making you feel close
if not sweltering, straining
from it, against it

it will be a cold winters night
where your breath is not taken from you
but frozen there, in your lungs

this is how it will be

Continue as you were, as you are
unchanged and ambivalent.

Continue on your way, and I will on my own.
Finally we have diverged.
No finally I have diverged. You were never on my same path.

So I will continue along,
altered and aware.
Aware of my naivety.
Aware of my insignificance in your eyes,
even though you encompassed my entire field of view.