The Sky Isn't the Safest...

The Sky Isn’t the Safest Way To Live.

I.
It’s hard.

Choking down answers that feel like needles.

II.
It’s very hard.

When I grasp towards you, It’s like my knuckles are forced backwards and iron-girt engines strain at spike-collars around my neck, and I swear, every single link of the chain yawns a wide-toothed NO with the foulest of letters.

III.
I am not you.

Sometimes I wish I was, because it must be easier to pull towards yourself than to push someone away. There’s nothing wrong with pushing and pulling… but everything’s wrong pushing and pulling with no gain. It means that energy is wasted. It means action resulted in no reaction.

Why do my efforts against you always result in failure?

IV.
You are not me.

Maybe it would be nice for you to take up my shoes and walk. You don’t know how beautiful you are in your way, though. You don’t know how brilliantly, how sun-like, your glance ripples the retention behind my eyes. I wish I could tell you that you already know who I really am. Blinders are the only things that obstruct, and they can be tenderly removed.

Yet I am afraid.

I fear.

V.
I’m terrified.
I’m terrified of the possibility of a you-less future.
I’m terrified of a future full of you.

Which is the lesser?

We never absolutely knew each other, but you knew every heartbeat that blew sighs your way, you could always feel the invisibility of air.

VI.
I always had to tell you no when you’d ask me to jump.

Because I knew that I would end up flying.

And the sky isn’t the safest way to live.

VII.
I envy you.

You could make yourself a new skin with the answers I’ve choked down and the scraps of my bravado.

VIII.
It’s still hard.

But I’ve learned to get by, and I’ve adapted a taste for cold refusals.

IX.
If only I believed in luck.