Two hearts of the same size,
each on one end of an old
telephone cord.
His, A.
Mine, B.
Very soon will that outer layer
of that long line, which signifies
a long time, wear completely.
A is pumping. B still pumping.
A appears much stronger, perhaps
oblivious to what really is
in the air of "love."
B is reaching as it has been
for months, grabbing out for A,
to be strong together.
The line tears
right in the middle. The fear
of years wasted makes B beat faster.
But there isn't enough
life inside of B so it is now only
dead weight. Bad end, I have just imagined
what a year ago, I couldn't.
I beg a first
and final time,
catch me
before I fall
too far away from you.
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