--like sand.

Tired of running behind you

Hoping one day you’d--turn around and look back.

I’ve wasted so many minutes, hours, days, weeks

--thinking of you.

Asking myself if you were maybe

thinking of me too--

Not only is that answer “no,”

it’s “hell no."

Not even a little bit.

And even though I’ve chosen to stop waiting

for something that will never come,

my heart is dumbfounded at the thought of change.

I pace--I sit--

I lay--I wither away--

in bed.

Wanting to get up to face the day, but--

I can’t.

I am but the fragile shell of a woman.

However, add the bulk of despondency, and

I weigh a ton.

My mind is willing, but

willpower has no place here.

I scarcely understand how I've found the

resolve to breathe.

Life has been reduced to "inhale--

"exhale--"

a trickle of an

existence.

--until..