the pull from under my ribs
is wanderlust
unsuccessfully convincing myself

that the ache in my soul
is not my red string of fate--
the one wrapped around my heart--

being pulled taut
ripping my organs from my chest  
and breaking my ribs like glass

it is not,
i whisper, not fooling anyone
the distance that makes it feel

like glass shards have taken over my throat
crawling from my mouth
and cutting off my tongue

it is not,
the fact that i cannot hold you
that makes my arm feel as if they have no purpose

it is not,
you being so far from my heart, my arms
that cuts up my insides so fine

please let me pretend,
just for a while longer,
that you being gone doesn't make me feel like a goner