Like Icarus
“A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.” — Ingrid Bergman
Inhale.
It’s about proximity and the overabundance of it.
Exhale.
It’s about moths to light, closing the space and grazing the sun.
Inhale.
It’s grasping for particles and crushing them together for oxygen, for fresh air, to fill the fluttering space in your lungs, desperately clawing at that extra bit of courage for flight.
Exhale.
It’s expelling the nervousness, the vibration of pixies swinging from your rib cage, displacing uncertainty and trepidation to make room for wings, for warmth and electricity that surges and rattles your bones.
Inhale.
It’s about patience, and the lack of it.
Exhale.
It’s about gravity, and losing your fight against it.
