My life is a revolving door of goodbyes.
Such is the life I have chosen for myself.
Such is the life that was chosen for me.
Spinning.
Out of control.
I’m reaching out for a rope.
A foothold.
A way to avoid another farewell.
Yet I keep walking through the doorway
again
again
and back again.
Telling myself that I have made it
past every parting of ways.
Standing.
Kneeling.
Sitting.
Crying.
Laughing.
Screaming.
Loving.
Here.
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