fully operational

Inhaling and exhaling sleep in some dark corner, I was muttering deep in a cavernous slumber when you tore me outside of myself. I could hear your void before I surfaced. You mistook my emptiness for loneliness, and followed me around, looked at me with love or at least some expectation of it, as if I could respond, as if I am dependable, fully operational. I tried to shake you, tried to circle around, swim in broad strokes with my back turned to you. I even ran away, numbed myself to your advances,  took all the back roads. But step for step, you matched, found, and stayed with me. Maybe this is what love is, I don’t know. Someone who doesn’t leave, even when you want them to. Someone who keeps pace, who is as restless, exhaustive and exhausted, as tired as you.

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