Shortening my sightlines doesn't always feel this good to me

I’m standing on the sidelines as you pass through my periphery

But I can't seem to find the fine line

Between what has been said and when this time

Weakening the frontline seems intuitive and easy

But I'm always focused on the feeling

That I might finally find some meaning

But full of air and weight

I can’t

Wait

Fully

For what I can't unfold

Quickly

Allegories left untold

Wholly

Slipped another note

Too early

Fell out of my throat

I'm sorry

Filling up my byline on another person's deadline

Uncertain past this past time

Unable to get past

The past tense

Of what I wanted to make

To make sense

Of this pretend pretense

I can't protect

Against