Maybe I'm falling and I don't realize I am because it feels like I'm flying.
Fear rushes through me, but it lulls me to sleep,
Telling me that it'll be okay
As long as I don't open my eyes.
So I keep my eyes closed, just like you ordered me to.
I do it continuously,
Until I'm perfectly sure I won't be able to see.
But then your fingertips tap against my eyelids, and
I peer down and down and down.
It doesn't make any sense
That my limbs are scattered beneath me. It causes me pain,
So much that I can't breathe. You're screaming at me,
Telling me to breathe, but I'm dying already.
Not being able to see doesn't mean it isn't real.
Of course it's real—that I'm dead and you're living.
I've always been fighting
For at least a little vision of something clearer than the sky,
So I focus on your eyes before closing mine.
Maybe I'll find another life in you.
It'd be so much better than to believe that there's no coming back
From this suffocating,
And deliberating blindness.
I've never felt anything but this,
Like gravity stole my mindset.
It's fine, though. Of course it is.
Because you're the answer,
And I'm falling.
And you're cradling me.
And I'm sleeping,
Deep inside you.
