head south

The wheels on the bus go round and round

I feel like a beetle flipped upside down,

On its backside, legs working furiously
Rotating in the air all for nothing/futilely

We’re not the type of people that type
Of thing happens to- but it happened
To us nevertheless, nonetheless

In our ‘relationship’ I felt smothered, suffocated

As if there weren’t enough air or room for me
To breathe

Breathe- come on now, breathe-

Now- I feel isolated, alone, stranded yet
I’m finding it immensely difficult to get
Oxygen into my once-young lungs

I’m suffocated, regardless

Only this time it’s not by arms tight and/or
Not enough space but by total and complete
Lack of your presence, your voice, your kiss
Your face, your embrace

A different race

But I’m still in last place-

I’m not the type of person this type of shit
Happens to, yet

It happened,

It’s happening

The wheels on the bus just keep on spinning
Round and round and round

As my smile keeps flipping itself upside down
Upon my mouth

Feeling lost I find

It’s time to head south