Cycle (how I learned to walk away)

Here we go again.

Friends and then not friends,

possible reunions cut short.

Your need to extinguish and mine to never relent.

The foot moves forward only to take two steps back.

Love what you know and never stop.

I’m exhausted and the acrylic holds on.

Plaster the foundation with gravity,

or just let it die.

That’s all I wanted from you.

But every month it returns

spotting the moist areas, backdrops of discomfort

and the flow of imagination

cut short.

Dispose the waste, recycle and wait for its return.

The cycle of life or my hope

and its miscarriages

up for grabs.

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