An Uncoordinated Yo-Yoer

One day I want to stay. The next I want to run again. 

My subconscious whips me around like an uncoordinated yo-yoer. 

A malaise hangs over me like a cloud, like a dead tree, like flayed animal hides stinking and dried. 

I want to cast everything off and go back home. To you. 

How my body fills with ecstasy when you enter my mind. 

How my heart fills with sighs when I think of you next to me. 

How I miss what is gone, and hope so badly that it returns. 

Yet wonder if the bridges have burned, 

If the roads have been toppled with rock,

If the power lines have fallen like wounded knees, 

And the messages are getting through at all. 

Your absence uprooted me. 

I am a nomad now. A tumbleweed with a backpack. Homeless. Tired. 


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