Just A Mess.

The lump in my throat continues to grow. It becomes almost suffocating as I tell myself to remember to breathe. Each breath aches like that pounding organ in my chest. Swallowing takes a special technique. You have to maneuver the air to move past that lump in your throat. Just practice. In time you will master it. My palms sweat like I've been holding on to some rope for dear life. Time moves fast but everything feels slow. The butterflies that dance in my stomach are really just the acids that exist. Butterfly sounds prettier, but acid is the way that I feel now. Nostalgic and restless, like the most important part of me is about to be ripped away. Once again time found its way to close in. There is a slow decay. Patience wears thin and cynicism creeps. I’ve been here before. A silence burns in the air. Inhale the fumes and exhale sadness. It’s heavy and it leaves my lungs raw. A missing is about to occur. The way your neck misses a scarf in the fall or the way your hands miss mittens in the winter. Technology suppresses a small amount of the pain and love conquers it. But the hearts of two so intertwined still miss. They feel the separation, the bleeding of a severed part. They feel uncertain of how to live apart when they are meant to be as one. I feel now as though I’m in a strange land, with unfamiliar streets and unwelcoming sidewalks. I have been lingering for a moment too long. Act fast. Time will always tick. Only action will be the bearer of success. No more strings hold me. No more burdens ride me. It’s just me left and you waiting. Your hand stretches far and your voice is calling me home. So as I feel this missing, I sense the end is near. This lump will retire and we can breathe together.