I used to tap my head to see if it was real, but then i'd just wonder if
my hand was a lie, too. i couldn't understand owning a body that
held itself together without any necessary effort. It shouldn't be
easy for these bones to bend without breaking, and yet, here i am.
And there you are. You dance like the dandelions i used to pick
in the outfield, flowing freely like no one could stop you, except, i
always picked you up and blew until you were just a stem in my
hand. That was my way of holding you together; of keeping your
body from slipping apart whenever it started to wander
farther than my reach. What i didn't understand is that i shouldn't
have to pick you; i shouldn't have to reel you in. You should be as close
as my skin, moving with my bones, we should bend but not break.
But i pick you, and i blow and every time I do you float further
Last edited by Cyclones41 at Jan 19, 2015,