365 Poems – 157 Slipping Away Underdeveloped (Rough First Draft)

Slipping Away Underdeveloped

 

I notice your quivering spirit.

It’s just under your fair skin.

 

You’re routinely damaged,

yet, still risk the dark.

 

I watch you find holes for

your feet in cliff faces.

 

I watch you climb higher,

where air is thin, brutal

to the lungs.

 

You regularly lean

into death, and I close

my eyes, reminding myself

not everyone falls.

 

Our friendship has been

an era of bafflement.

 

When I’m absent from you,

I have unbalanced visions

of your future.

 

People will ask what you

do, and you will reply,

I cultivate mermaids

and teach dogs that

they will always be wolves.

 

Sometimes, you’ll tell

me about slowly warming

up in bed.

 

Moments when you are

content – and can rise calm-

please me.

 

When we  both fall into

an unnatural silence,

there is a double descent.

 

Your intelligence and charisma

dehydrates. Your serenity

decays  quickly, overtaken by

industrial sized misery.

 

I slowly introduce light again,

and complain that your spirit is late.

 

 

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