I sat again and looked at my feet. The blood had stopped. I had farther to go.
I slept and dreamed of nothing, but I had wanted to dream of outer space.
As a young girl I watched the stars and always felt I could go there and back. Now I now my feet are much more valuable than those shining lights.
I woke up and shook my heart like a bookcase, the gratitude falling out like many pages of a book, like the cleaning of a canary cage, debris flying everywhere, my gratitude, my gratitude. Falling and landing in space.
Is my gratitude merely platitudes?
It's an armor I started wearing to protect myself from the dark.
I keep seeing those damn lights, though.
