[Gallagher]

is it a day, is it a week

it feels like a knife in my back, blunt and deep and cold, dragged down by an anchor, inch by inch by inch, leaving me warm with frostbite and numb

everything is here, but it feels precarious. today might be the last day. tomorrow. or, was the decision already made where i couldn't see

it's not loneliness. it's mourning, a grief for things not yet lost, but slipping

it feels insurmountable

but i'm

only experienced with patience

and waiting it out