Separation happens in circles

It is late, but not
so late that I should be in bed.
Except I should.
Sleep might help.
My eyes are too dry, and painful
like lids sliding over
shattered glass. I might be drunk.
I remember:
     I did what any
     good boy would
    do. I had a few
      drinks.
I remember what those words did to me.
 I remember how
they terrified me
  at the time
enough to hang up on you more
    completely
than on anyone before or since.

i dislike leaving people.
You never know when they'll need you again,
or you them. Even more,
 i hate when
people leave. It rips me to pieces.
I have a hard enough time
dealing with torn stockings.
But it's so funny--
    in the almost-ironic,
    slightly sick sort of way--
how you pulling away,
and then just leaving
  like you did
  tonight,
makes me want to pull away from
my lovers, from Hispanic hugs,
people wanting to be here.
You make me want to curl
snail-like into my shell
   hidden tight
only seemingly safe.

But mama didn't raise no sissy.
My mama raised a tough girl,
pretty enough, smart,
    stronger as whiskey straight.
Mama taught me that, yes,
misery loves company. It's
too damn weak
to be on its lonesome.

      Emotion     is  not   a  weakness.

         Crying     is  not  a  weakness.

    Vulnerability is  not  a  weakness.

Loneliness is weakness.

Sharing grief is what makes us strong.