in the in-betweens
we keep bleeding with gravity pulling us enough not to notice we’re spinning in the roaming. what a sight it must be, from millions of light years away, seeing the past ever so binding, the future ever so striking, and the present ever so exhausting. who knows what God put in the air when we’re falling in love, so high above that we can’t make sense of.
did you run through that field of grass you could easily find in your hometown, in the autumn haze, with the best of friends? I miss the front yard of my grandma’s old house with a guava tree perched in the corner, the lively upstairs and the haunted downstairs, the sewing machine she used to make blankets.
now I just watch decisions being made, mistakes chosen over and over, regrets and griefs buried so deep I can’t find the stone, realizing I can’t stand a complete silence for a very long time, feeling my mind and soul building and crushing and building forts, shot the most painful bullets with no trace of where they hit, curse the sun and the rain today and thank them tomorrow, feeling too empty I can’t make out what is this kind of sorrow.
I dream of laying on a hill overlooking the city lights and let the cold breeze wash over me, I dream of holding on to someone whose face I can’t see, I’ve been crying every day, sending invisible letters, I’ve never been better.