every time you head out the door,
that you take a chunk of my heart with you.
Each time you pour fluid toxins,
and inhale poisons that flame and smoke,
a part of me screams.
Yet here.
I.
Wait.
Like a fucking Labrador.
Waiting for you to throw the tennis ball
one last time,
before my heart fails and I collapse.
So many things to commend.
So many things to hate.
So many reasons to love,
and cry, and fight, and fuck.
Emotions cracking the sidewalks,
the weeds are starting to grow through.
They'll show their true colors
of blue and green,
after the caretaker sprays them down.
What's left?
I want to love you.
Please make it easier for me.
Please stop making me fight through this.
Some walls are too thick.
Some walls are too tall.
Some caves, too deep.
and the more you build,
the more you reach,
and each time you dig,
you might as well do it with me.
At least then I know where I'm going,
and I can put some lights up
to find my way.
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