Gravity? Well…

When you fell,
I held out my hand,
but, gravity,

it had other plans.

The part you left behind,
though it still shines,
is like an anchor, a tie,
a tether, or taut line…

Stretched into a thread,
infinite, black,
and so very fine.

Hopefully, you are all right,
but I worry about the pull
of you, apart or in pieces,

In part,

gravity never ceases
to stretch you between
the anchor’s hold
and into whatever hole

gravity is currently
force-feeding you.

Whatever the case,
Gravity’s lust,

at least,

seems to be pleasing you.

©️ 2020.

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