All I really want is to not disappoint her as she glides down to carry me home.
Wouldn't I be the last mountain mistake? The one she always regrets. Maybe I'm worse off now that she knows where I've been hiding, writing my poems, hoping for another way.
Across the skies she screams of her arrival, and of the departure from my world into hers.
It looked a lot like a storm this morning but tonight it's just sky, tonight it's just me.
I don't need anymore regret, my eyes are full and my skin is stretched as thin as this line that I am on.
There are no more spaces to fill.
Just this sky raging above my life.
And the fading, always the fading.