We live in short bursts,
weekend visits,
THRIVE on hard goodbyes,
you are lost to me
for now
as we are the receding tides,
stroking back and fourth,
licking the shore
we lack permanence
the bone dry affection
constricting
as I open up then retract
retreating back to what I know
the taste of alone on the back of my tongue,
but I refuse to swallow.
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