u/TherapyButMkItVibes

They say ants lose the trail
and slip into following each other.

A circle tightening,
the only direction
they know.

I Don't notice until I'm in it.

Only that my thoughts
begin to curve;
back to the same door,
the same hands,
the same version of my body
that learned to be wanted
before it could leave.

I call it desire
because that's easier
than calling it memory
with teeth.

Want, guilt, want.
Something already moving in me
mistaking motion for escape.

I circle what hurt me
until it looks like choice.

Until I forget
which part of me
is leading.

The body knows this.
Repeating what it survives.

Dressing it up in heat,
in hunger,
in something that almost passes for power.

Almost.

If I stop,
the ground tilts.

If I keep moving,
I disappear more slowly.

Elsewhere,
the ants are still turning,
a ring of small bodies
wearing a path into nothing
as if it leads somewhere.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/pG1V5oHOf3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/BI9SSWdW3i