Beginning of the End

Why do you leave me
so unsatisfied?

I try.
I concentrate.
I let go.
I try,

but nothing,
and I don’t think you notice.

I roll over
with almost-tears
in my eyes
because I wonder
if you feel
the apartness
as vividly as I do.

Is it glowing
in bright red,
that line we’ve drawn?

Can you see it
pull tighter
in its technicolor bindings?

Was it ever really anything else?

You and me and that line,
that boundary I can’t cross
because you won’t see me
even if I show you.
You’re incapable,
and it’s not your fault.

You should love someone simpler,
and I am nothing
but tight knots
encased in cured metal–
complicated and impossible.

You leave me unsatisfied
more and more,
and it’s the beginning
of the end.

I can feel it slithering
up my bones,
and I’m afraid.

I’m afraid
because I’ve felt it before
under gray skies
and rented roofs.
I left then,
but it wasn’t permanent

like this.

It didn’t take me so long
to realize,
not like this time
when the mire is so much more
venomous and sticky,
so filled with past and future,
starts and stops,

but I don’t know how much longer
I can drift in this doldrums
before I’ll have to run.




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