UNTITLED

So
you’ve left me with me again.
I guess I’ll carry my self
in the crook of my arm
walk down the street
and pretend that feels natural.
It’s either that
or roll myself into a tiny ball on my tongue
and try to swallow
but, honestly, I’m not really hungry.
Honestly, I’m kind of afraid
I’ll get so caught up watching
that I’ll let my self
slide down my wrist
into my palm
over my fingers
into the grass again.

But maybe this time I’ll be able to hold on.
Maybe I’ll just keep walking.

What if I didn’t, though?
What if I stopped and admitted
that you make me feel like I’m hanging off a cliff’s edge
but that I still want to run with you
past that tree up there
and just keep running?
I bet you would tell me to slow down
that we’ve already lost our grip on that cliff
that we’re out of breath
that this can’t happen now.
And if I said I didn’t care about
keeping a good grip
about breath,
just hanging and running and you,
you’d probably say
I care about all the wrong things
that you don’t feel like running
that this can’t happen now.

So
you’ve left me with me again.
I guess I have to just
hold on real tight to my self
this time
not get too caught up in the watching.

Maybe this time I’ll be able to hold on.
Maybe this time I’ll just keep walking.

- Caedra Scott-Flaherty