for me
it is either completely meaningless
or absolutely meaningful
there is no gray area in my atmosphere
you will feel my fire for all that it's worth
or the cold wind of desolation and abandonment will haunt you until I say otherwise
maybe nothing comes next
maybe i'm reaching for something that was never there to begin with
but i have to get off the fence that I've been balancing on for far too long
because ******,
this is about me.

I have been chasing an aborted idea
and you have let me,
feeding me with the encouraging nutrients I needed.
yet now as I bleed out, I can't blame you,
regardless of the empty words you had me feeling full of,
putting aside the "maybes" that live on your tongue,
because I knew all along that this one was never going to make it full term,
and ******
this is about me.