You ask me
"What does it feel like
To sit around waiting for the person who you know is going to hurt you
To go ahead and get on with it?"

Have you ever tried to pretend your heart
Is a pebble at the bottom of a fast flowing river,
Cold?
Have you ever imagined it as the backside of the mirror
Where you stare yourself in the eyes
Trying to talk yourself back up,
Hard
Reflective
Insincere?
Have you ever thought what it would be like
To be the darkest part of the mountainscape
In that painting in your living room
Where you sit on your couch
Taking breaths,
Distant
But so so here.
And real.
And aching.
And bleeding.
Have you ever tried to control the cosmos?