It’s hard to see past the time,
past the friends who have left before –
who just
dropped
off the grid
when I thought
we had more.
Unable to reach up out into the future,
I am left behind,
wedged
between logic and love,
with arms tied.
But it’s selfish –
this deserted feeling –
because it’s not about me;
it’s about
who’s leaving.
I don’t want fate to decide
to leave me drowning
swirling
spinning
or let the past determine
the outcome
or the ending.
The details seem staggering;
I can’t wade through them.
But I believe we are stronger
and this
is not the end.