and if flowers didn't bloom, and you didn't love plumes of smoke, cloud would never have left home. and his face would have had painted on disaster, from silk socks that were rubbed on his face, when the box was missing tissues.
cloud danced in raindrops, part of his blue hopes he didn't deal with. thought perfect by all who touched it, and delicate by all who saw it, and magnificent by all who heard it, though cloud could feel himself falling away.
rain fell through his glowing white teeth as he smiled wild, near insane with the thought of himself flying. but he stayed in his smoky rooms, lips touching dusty posters and he sighed and near cried. flowers would bloom, as he touched the sky. and he would not come back down, but would instead, stare down into those blue oceans.
as he saw the sun and rested on mercury he might even befriend stardust, or breathe it, like dusty colors, that would cost him.a world, a star, and his stardust, it would cost him. and he would smile, and hand it all over, but then leap to the moon, and hold one of the rough moonstones.
and he might even touch a meteorite, and he might even see the throne down on earth, or the pool that everyone saw, but no one visited. and cloud would rest on a bed of stars, the planets built for him. and he would rest, right there, while flowers bloomed, and others loved plumes of smoke. and finally, he would smile.
YOU ARE READING
Part the World
Poetrythey called him a child and disordered for wanting to get out a series of poems meant to bridge the gap between the night sky and the blue ocean. from many people who have seen both and are hoping to change the entire world with words alone. they s...
