uninteresting and not worth your time

rope

 My finger tips bleed and blister from the rough material as I continue my journey. You reach out to me with trembling arms with the roadmap of your sorrow graphed upon them. Your face falls weary by how close out touch becomes which causes you to resist. My hands burn in the friction your lure has created to the point of no feeling, as if they aren't my own. Yet I climb on longing to reach the top. Longing for my goal. But the rope is fraying, I can see the fibers tearing away as you turn away from me. Your maps hidden in your sweatshirt smelling of the saftey I want. Tears form in your eyes as you see me descend, but you just look away. The rope is broken. Attached was our hope, potential, trust, and me. But you never looked back.

-s