Sometimes I think it’s gone.
That maybe it got up in the mountains
of Virginia,
or left on the bench at a roadside diner.
I feel so weightless without it,
like I can do anything, be anything,
freedom.

But it’s never really gone.
It always hitches a ride or grabs onto
the bottom of my pants dragging in the dirt.

That little ****** named Heartbreak.
He still knows how to weigh me down.