They all want to crush you, I think, the weight is just too heavy for them so they look to you to carry it, knowing you can't, knowing they shouldn't put that on you; it's not yours.
So you sink a bit with each breath and wonder the weight for love? The caving in of your chest for your heart pounding compliance? Pressuring you now or never or alone. Are those the choices? Another option maybe that isn't so much that it squeezes the soul you have into a flat kind of mat meant for forgetting except when their feet are really really dirty, gritty, charred.
Lucky for me that I have some kind of resilience; lucky for them as well. Lucky to see that there is always an up. But what is this, right here dead center? It is pulling all my pieces tight together from my teeth to my toes, a curling in as if in escape? My eyes tighten and shut a bit but it just squeezes a bit of wet, a remembrance that I should probably cry. Sucking parts in further, so compact, so thin, now a tiny ball of thread, expertly wound, with care and consideration for the need for me later, when something needs mending, but not care enough to create.
An undoing now, scraps spread wide and ready across the moments that led us here. Coming together, falling apart, ebb and flow of the saline wash of surrender, letting go and giving in to the idea of never giving in again. Floating motionless, weightless, surrounded but absolutely alone.
Full formed infallible, untouchable and underestimated, walking through this place again but it is completely new, and it is finally time for this to begin.

She stopped at every corner waiting for a crash,
she turned away the maybe in hopes of a second chance,
along came these faces, these places and so and so's,
but she passed them and graced them with only goodbyes.
A quick turn, a hand flick a quick stolen gaze,
then back to the road that was littered with haze.
She knew there was something along its terrain
that made her keep going, keep pacing, keep licking the stain
that the heart left behind when it bounced just for her.
Now it is limp and it crawls and it snarls at the ones that come near.
Still it beats, slow murmur of suggestion,
that there's something waiting, its not just a question.
Willed to continued, willed against defeat,
the mess that she can't see still beats.
No longer a ghost as proximity heats up,
but the road is rocks and pieces and disrupt.

That was a rough edge,
sharp but slick,
inviting me to cut up and open
so inviting,
to let things run out.
cleansing?
emptying?
We will never know because there's no trace now.
Just something hollow, an echo
dragged across the streets of my mind;
you pulling me there without touching.
Was the sound of your smile I think
luring me,
essentializing my peril till it seemed like the only choice,
my sacrifice to you.
No one understands the jumps I made,
no one but the edge;
but that's our secret now.