What it feels like when you leave. Prying of something within towards something without. A pulling of something meaningful out towards something forgetful. A calling of an echo of someone who meant to call for someone else. Numbness is a transferred tool and it hurts to cross over to your neighborhood to deliver it back to someone who cooks up the evidence of something to forget. It feels like one side fell asleep and the other is tired of carrying all of the weight. And so, we forget the pulling towards your home with me and you pry on the counterfeit version of what you gained from calling me in towards you like a cross fire, like one flame is only bigger when another like it is lit just the same and we both, scared of one another but pulling for one another like beginning of magnet to end of magnet as though there is no other way of route and no other puzzle to piece and it feels like water dampened out to dust and wind blew away the pieces of me and separate of you and me is the same as me and myself and I miss you is an over used statement to simplify this feeling of loss of what is mine and this gain of something other. And it’s safer this way. And sad all the time, because it feels like swimming with one arm while the other sleeps, this arm works twice as hard just to live happy, be happy while carrying this weight of loss.
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