knees knocking on consoles
floorboards creaking
the padding of your feet sounds like
an earthquake at four in the morning
but laughter at dawn sounds quiet
somehow it blends
with the hues of the sky
and it weaves itself into the beginning of the rest of your life
loss isn't something you've experienced yet
your old apartment burnt to a husk
but you haven't burned like that yet
not yet, not yet
you watch the sunrises and the sunsets
and know the clouds like the backs of your palms
they remind you of yourself
always moving, changing, but clouds nonetheless
the ocean is something you've never seen
but you can hear it
in the shells your friends bring back for you
distance, you think, is the greatest gift
suddenly, you're on fire,
you've never been on fire before
the ocean can't save you
and distance, you find, is a burden
sometimes, your eyes still burn
and you have to clutch the pillow
because it's the only way you can sleep
when you're alone, alone, alone
hyperion*