Oh! To get lost in others’ stories again,
of love and loss constantly reimagined,
reasons to feel,
empathy to seep,
Through to my very bones,
As I pictures me in that love,
that Home,
tears flutter under these external shutters,
layered over a simmering flame,
that only finds written reasons to feel again,
weeping inconsolably,
as this wretched life touches me,
the physicality of sweet beast,
wrench all love,
all hope,
all trust,
all homes,
ripping out that love that settled in so fast, so fateful, so free.

I hope you see. This is not me. Here is no here, just an accursed “free”.
This road winds down ever so steeply.
I wish. I plead. I please. I need.