Rubber Band.

They tell you

"long distance will kill you,"

but they don't tell you

it'll take this long.

131 miles pulls the heartstrings

like a rubber band,

Stretching thin,

Constantly about to snap.

And it hurts.

The premonition that one day,

He'll get tired of the stretching.

He'll get tired of holding on.

He'll get tired of waiting.

He'll pop the rubber band,

And the whelp left behind will last a lifetime.

 
This poem is about: 
Me

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