Gone
Before the cursor even hit the screen
I was gone
Inclined to give feelings the stage, but
Without letting them spill
Before the light even hit the concrete
I was gone
Dodging intense commutes
Yawning out the night’s drips of insecurities
Before an ounce was even consumed
I was gone
Holding on with intent
Not to spill a drop along the way
Before the light even hit the pillow
I was gone
Holding on with content
To every drop of your skin
Before I even touched you
I was gone
My heart gave no consent
Spilling every drop
Before I was gone
I was here
Content
Dripping wet with anticipation
—Bryan McGrath
This article appears in December 2016.
