I step up to the edge, the breeze blowing my hair.
I close my eyes and I can see it.
My feet leave the ground as my wings catch the wind.
I’m flying.
But, when I open my eyes, I’m not soaring
and my feet are still on solid ground.
What if I fall?
I can’t risk it, that pain.
I look around and see others fearlessly facing the plunge,
but I remain frozen in place.
Scared.
All I can think is, “What if I fall? What if I fall?”
It’s then, in the midst of my frantic thoughts,
That I hear a still, small voice say,
“Yes, but what if you fly?”

As a kid,
I thought wardrobes
really led people to Narnia

As a tenager,
it became a place
that held all the secrets
of seven minutes in heaven.

Now, it's just another
chaotic part of my life

Memories
yet to be sorted out,
Secrets still hidden deep in
like your shirts.

That leaves me believing
that wardrobe is
just a fancy name
for cemetery,
for memories and secrets.

The good.

The bad.

The silence.

The eye contact.

The feelings.

The end.