You can feel it in the air you breathe
This thing that floats around us,
And gets inside us,
And flows through us with our blood
A thing that is not us
Yet becomes us,
Taking us over
From the inside out,
Altering how we think
Or live
Or act,
Not love, not any more,
Something that dresses up as love
And fools us into believing it is.
Though now, a whole year or so later
The feeling persists,
Of missed things,
Opportunities recklessly cast away
Leaving a bitter landscape
When trust is a stranger
And hope an illusion,
Knowing this is on the brink
Of some greater chapter,
We cannot specifically predict,
Yet feel its motion,
Like a freight train
Rushing around inside of us,
Looking for a way to burst out,
Each day a bit closer
To a conclusion we do not wish
To occur, yet feel coming,
Inevitably
And she
On the forefront
Waiting
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