spiraling out

I wish everyone who loved me would go
away. That life is over now. We talk
for hours, different days, different people
catching up and finding how
to not let go, I guess. But if

They would let go, maybe I could.
And I'd say now: they tired of me,
and went off spinning into lives
of good and better greater good.

A glorious mess.

But since they don't, but since they keep
on reaching out, and drawing in,
I'm forced to know their better lives
are pretty much the way they've been.
When I was there, and we would come
together. I could really do something

I sleep and wake, and so do we,
and now I'm where I can't. And still
They reach, and draw, and so I cling.
To nonevents, eventually.

Spiraling out of orbits now, unnaturally
this gravity holds. The farther out we go
we see: the sun we loved is just a star.
We know. We knew it then, but then
we walked out under it and saw
just everything. Togethering,

With so much future left to stall.