You hold your breath and bite your tongue until you breathe in with intent to speak. I melt wax into my ears and tie back both my arms, to prepare to hold our heads underwater. The Doppler effect of willful ignorance – I distort all I don’t want hear.

If I could create a scene pretty enough to spend forever in, I’d stay there forever with you. It’d be a fabricated work of fiction, but I’d position us just right. If you could pull wool blankets over faces, and dream until you sleep, I’ll ignore our fading eyes, decaying flesh, and growing acceptance of despair.

We could carve a home out of the fumes of hopes and dreams, and remind each other that happiness was made up in children’s stories. But let’s remain children while together we grow old; let’s lie and watch the clouds below until we can make-believe the truth.  Don’t break the stillness with your words: it could all so easily float away.

2 thoughts on “floating

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