i thought the tug was the inability to let go of you 

the reflex to squeeze 

to clutch 

an omen that our time had not yet expired 

there was more of us to come 

a supernatural indication that i should remain where I am 

stuck in you 

but what if that tug is a scar 

intended to flutter as a reminder to self of pain healed 

not a keloid 

but better yet an invisible symbol of my regeneration 

my reptilian nature to remember the old and yet not forfeit the new 

the tug was for me, never you