My shoulders won't hang evenly
at the top of my back
and the rest of my body
is heavy with a grief
that I never recognised
until all the windows closed
and we were face to face.
My face feels differently in my hands
than it did in yours
and solitude was unwelcome
but uninterested as
it sat and told me
that its all about courage
and nothing about drive.
I'm not always sure
I have either and
I want to climb down from here
and light a candle
for each person I thought I would become
but was too weak to find the gap
between him and him
to try any harder than I did.
I am not miserable,
I am frightened
and consumed by it
entirely.
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