is a scary thing
to feel blood
rushing from your feet
to feel fingertips on your shoulder
when he is thousands of miles away
to feel your heart pounding as you run
run and surge, rippleless, into that fluid gentle dark
to feel your lungs fill and collapse like
an accordion
i couldn’t stop feeling
anymore than he could stop being who he was
which was simply:
not mine
when i wrote this i meant it so much so even though now it disgusts me i cannot consider it cliche because i wrote it with no intention of showing others