The sweat of being

If I can miss when
I cease to be
The thing I will miss most
Is sweat
Its clean purification
Its clarity of voice
The way it torrents off me
At the end of my
Three-mile run
The way it clams my palms
And brow and thunders in
My breast with anxiety
The way it lubricates
My acceleration
Toward you
By the light of the
Lone candle

But I suspect that
When I cease to be
I will not miss
And thus I am off
To enjoy the sweat of
Being

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thief

you broke into me like
a thief in the night
and, a felon without a
conscience,
i aided and abetted you
until one day you got caught
and i had to arrest my love
for the fear of
prosecution

Written for MINDLOVEMISERY’s Prompt 18: “Losing Control”