I miss the weight of being whole. Rendered insubstantial, I simply float, drained by a million little things. Oh, but details are exhausting.
Lost in the wide space of an unfamiliar place, even more lost in the ever-expanding labyrinth of my personal house of leaves.
I miss the familiar freeways, which navigate the curves of familiar city limits, racing through my world, with the ocean visible in the West.
Frozen by a thousand little pieces, sharp strings holding me to you, against my will. But you were the last place I truly called home.
I feel it in the pounding of my heart, the hints of your lips, your breath, your smile. Every pump forces my eyes tighter shut against the roaring.
With every little betrayal I break just a little bit more, but I know how easy it is for you to erase the line in the sand.
And him. The thousand crushing questions, hiding behind silent calculations.
And I hang suspended in my tightly woven web of indecision, waiting, always waiting.
And if I’m not worth fighting for, what am I worth?
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