The Poetry Project

The End

Alisha Mascarenhas

The effort of worth is so painful
it’s inherent
wanting to be better like what’s here
couldn’t ever be enough
feeling for the impasse
it’s so sensitive
we are all looking up at the burning
hot sun
it’s red
the atmosphere is all chalky at twilight
walking you home in July
it’s dangerous to inhale
it’s expensive
this is the cost we are not willing to pay
this weather we’ve made
bright alarm of red
it’s hovering
pinks the moon
tender exhaustion

the fatigue horizon multiplies
as you move towards it
if having is evidence of wanting
what’s the source?

is that love rushing out of you
or fear?
how do you know the difference?

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