My life is a revolving door of goodbyes.

Such is the life I have chosen for myself.

Such is the life that was chosen for me.

Spinning.

Out of control. 

I’m reaching out for a rope.

A foothold. 

A way to avoid another farewell.

Yet I keep walking through the doorway

again

again

and back again.

Telling myself that I have made it 

past every parting of ways.

Standing. 

Kneeling.

Sitting.

Crying.

Laughing.

Screaming. 

Loving.

Here.

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