what if we were never in a tunnel
and the light was just a lie we were told
to make us keep walking?

what if that burst of morning
was something they were holding
just out of our reach?

what if they watched as you ran
on that treadmill, as you
racked your brain for a lost memory
when you fought their grasp
when you held your head

when you were just trying
to remember
the softness of a neck