Everything

Up here, I can see everything the roads we take, the blind spots we miss, even the weather sneaking in uninvited. From up here, I can tell you that frown you wear goes nowhere. And that drum in your chest, snaring like a live wire with no rest, softens into a cloud. Up here, I can see the sun setting. The dark is coming. But so is a new day rising in a golden mist. Way up here, everything is as it should be. It's hard for my voice to reach you I ask the wind to carry it to yo

Stretch like a child playing with a rubber band, who’s never felt the snap of it gone too far. Bend like light through crystal, or waves in a magnetic field— just enough to press the edge of physics. Reach through a portal built by a mere mortal, through smoke and mirrors. Offering your hand— and your whole life, too. Peel like a hard-boiled egg, cracking and splintering, delicate but sharp. Lower your shield. Expose your soft underbelly. Reveal the golden, glimmering hope wi

To up and leave for a whispered promise— brushing against unwritten stone. I moan. Just a sound to fill the hollow. I don’t mean to sound so monotone. But I left behind all I’ve ever known. Do I land like a feather, fallen from my flock? Gently, tenderly graciously welcoming. Or like the snap of an alligator’s jaw— No looking back, swallowing every bitter memory marching through the swamp with bruised and scraped knees? At first, there’s excitement in unfamiliarity: a snaring