icarus

The day I lost you was the day I breathed in clouds. There had been no forecasts of rain, no sighs from the azure sky. I forgot that sometimes we can fly without wings, although it always takes two. Although it was always with you. As the droplets form we were water-soluble, dripping. It was hard recognizing the moment when your face stopped being yours. Dissolve. Dissolve.
These days I look up and realize we rose too high. I’d fix our wings but they’re not bonded with wax. It was not their fault for not taking flight. It was not the sun’s fault for being too bright. It was not our fault for being too right. I never exhaled. The clouds are not enough to lift my feet off the ground, but at least it never lets my heartbeat fall. So breathe.
