photo-3Twice yesterday I felt you tug at me
I felt you pull away from me,
in the afternoon,
and once in the evening
It felt as if you pulled away, as if the
chords connecting us had been broken,
and you were drifting away while I stood
solid on the ground

I want to feel bad about it,
I want to miss you, to tell
you not to go,
I want to get myself worked up
so I can grieve
and hope to find peace afterwards

But, strangely,
I don’t do these things
The breaking
of the chords seems so natural—
a natural progression of things—
not something I should feel bad about,
just something to acknowledge

Perhaps it’s not you
who is tugging at me
Perhaps it’s me doing the tugging,
snapping the chords so you can float freely
and I can stand solid and firm

Perhaps this is why,
when I stood in the woods,
feeling our separation and the
strings dangling at my sides,
connecting me to no one,

I felt perfectly fine

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