I thought it would be easier to push the clouds away. Dancing in the rain, drenched in rainbows. And my mind is a hurricane of jumbled thoughts. Are they falling out of my eyes? Are they painted on my lips?
I am blind and taste the yellow sun—the fog on my tongue. I collect memories and store them in those clouds. The sound of light is a melody in my hair.
Old skin, lost under these clouds. I can smell the ink in my journal, the words on my fingers. Sing with me. Hug me tight. I want to survive another night and call it “a long time ago”.
I thought it would be easier to push the clouds away. I was dancing in circles. Front row in my own life. One last step. Out of the light. Into the night.