On Leaving

As porous as air, sliced

Thin, I fall between

See you way over there perhaps, or

Not, maybe hear your quiet tears, at least,

The less of the time, so much more

The hands falling with gravity

Than fighting against it, upwards,

I slip bare between the molecules

where you are playing hide-and-seek,

No game, bobbing behind them,

Moving sad and slow, shrouded somewhere

Ahead, like life’s last breath.

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