When I rose up,
Everything was crisp hard edges and lonely echoes.
When I rose up,
My breath came like fleeting plumes in winter.
When I rose up,
Anticipation swelled and rolled in me.
But when every solid gray door that found me was not mine,
When I got to the top and found no place for me,
There was only one place to go.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
When I rose up,
Everything was crisp hard edges and lonely echoes.
When I rose up,
My breath came like fleeting plumes in winter.
When I rose up,
Anticipation swelled and rolled in me.
But when every solid gray door that found me was not mine,
When I got to the top and found no place for me,
There was only one place to go.
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