Gravity? Well…

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

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,

alright?
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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