Quicksand

I can feel it in my bones
a cold wind blowing up my spine
It’s going to be a bad day.

My soul wants to reach out to you, for comfort
My hands pick up the phone, tempted to drag you heart first into my black hole of chaos
A slow sigh. A shake of the head.
My hands retreat.

What is the use?
When you are too far away to hold?
When you are out there in the world of light,
and I am drowning in quicksand,
sinking into the sorrows of my life.

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