seventy one

If my footsteps had been heartbeats,
They would have fizzled out by the end of the sidewalk
Like the way your words fade away when you realize no one is listening.
I'm not sure what your heartbeat would have sounded like that night
But I have a feeling it felt like the hesitant wind through the trees
That couldn't quite ignore the falling leaves,
I can't help but imagine your breath sounding like coming back to life
But not wanting to be there,
And I can't help but recognize the way I've adopted a similar practice
Of coming fast and leaving early as if it will make a difference,
And on the sidewalk my breath came like a pain pill to the addict,
Because withdrawals are nice when you need to feel something,
Even though it's the last thing you want.
Can you tell me it's going to be okay?
I won't even believe myself these days.