The one that swam too far

You are not a pear.

Not soft, or taller than the others.

Familiar, but not the one.

I despair- you whisk every part of me

Scooping up air

I grow and grow but little parts


I never wanted

Your cells to remain

I never asked to keep one there, had no intention of nurturing anything you left behind

Was willing to burn it all

Or let it at least fade quietly

In my old cigar box

This is something else.

We made our bed

And so I must lie in it.


About hereisthemoment

I write. Sometimes I don't.

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