I am angry that nothing is certain
No one is sure
I am tossed into this whirlwind with this realization
I realize that love isn’t infinite,
I can subscribe to the belief of its infinity
But I have seen what waits down that tunnel
I realize that many things take two
Two people to love or more if you dare
Two people to converse or more if you’re dared
I find comfort in the singular and I feel awful about it
I feel bad that despite craving intimacy
I am okay being alone
Should these forces, opposing at their core, rage
Inside me
I am a multitude I am a mess
I am unclassified, no one is certain
I am angry and heavy
To realize the possible course of life
That this path I am on may warrant abandon tomorrow
Or will need a sole traveler in the end
But I dread most the moment I will need to part
With love and my love.
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