how is it that i am forlorn

wind and storm
insulated
i want to breathe

say good morning to the sky
anger in the clouds
horizon to horizon

i breathe anyway
sip coffee
grimace

look at the clock
notice the drops of rain
already covering
things

close and thick
our air
i curse the cars
i curse the need
the rush

not silent
no
the storm rises
and i’m settled
as if no amount of weather
could move me

no amount of anything
dry sockets
i sip more coffee
breathe the unbreathable
with barely enough room
for a sigh

close eyes for a prayer
decide pain is fitting
how is it that i am forlorn?
gravity pulls
the earth creaks
wind lashes

and i wish it were that simple

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