Cycle – A Poem

There is always something
pulling your attention away.

Not one thing.
A rotation.

Something new.
Something quick.
Something that gives just enough
to keep you moving toward the next.

I watched it happen
in real time.

The way your focus shifts
the moment something easier appears.

The way everything else
gets set down
mid-sentence
mid-moment
mid-connection

without a second thought.

It isn’t need.

It’s movement.

A constant reaching
for whatever comes fastest
and leaves the least behind.

And I learned
where I fall in that order.

Not first.
Not second.

Somewhere after
whatever is immediate
whatever is easy
whatever asks nothing of you.

Even when I was right there
within reach
within the same space

you were already gone
in your attention.

Already pulled
into something that required less
and gave you more
in return.

You say it wasn’t important.

That it didn’t mean anything.

That it was just something you did
and then it was over.

But repetition gives things meaning.

Patterns tell the truth
that words avoid.

And the truth
is not what you chose.

It’s how easily
you chose it
over everything else

again
and again
and again

while I stood there
becoming

something you could come back to later

if there was anything left
to come back for.

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