the Purgatory of a Broken Heart

Fall into the abysmal depths

Don’t tailgate. That’s rude.

Get off my bum. 🙏🏾

I sit back and observe, tracking the pattern, before I act.

I don’t react. I step into the reality that I manifest myself.

Without one word spoken.

Unlocking pattern recognition, telling me preemptively what this will be.

Yet, I cannot resist the pull. The observer and the observed splitting the moment.

What does it mean?

Water it down for me, please 🙏🏾 they beg urgently.

Tone it down. Not trying to drown in your emotions.

The body knows, before the mind registers familiarity.

A twist of the intestines, a shortness of breath, an ever so slight lean forward, all signal somatic relevance within the field.