Sadness; this heavy thing begins to silt through my body.

Threatening to weigh me down.

Till my very heart is on the stone-cold ground.
Till *time itself sews itself into this space in my chest.

Pathetic, vulnerable fetal position twists my everywhere.

You can scoff, call me weak.

I dare you.

However,
say it when you feel the death of something so acutely.
- I refer to it as something as you don't lose someone.
They are very much alive in the memories.-    

The moments dusty and blurry at the edges.
The same ones that gently seam your eyelids every single night.

Compelling you to live in the dusty, yellowed past.
The choice becomes nothing but
yours.

But it isn't mine either.      

My stubborn heart still beats with something that is defined as life
but
doesn't
quite
feel like
                                                             i   t.